A Difficult Reminder And A Short Drama

Please pray for me as the hardest things for me to have to give up where I am in nowhere-land are daily Mass and several times of Adoration a week. As I am living far away from a Catholic Church, this denial of the Sacrament and of Adoration is a real penance.

I offer up this denial of graces to me for D, R. E, Z, G, B, J and other who have asked for my prayers.

However, what I am experiencing in grief will be the experience of the majority of Catholic in the not-so-far future.

The remnant may not have Mass and Adoration. I have wanted for a long time to live in a house with the Holy Eucharist, and being in Tyburn last year was such a gift.

I could see my Lord frequently.

Tyburn opened in France last Autumn. Wonderful. And, this is another sign of the holiness of the foundress.

http://www.catholicsentinel.org/main.asp?SectionID=2&SubSectionID=34&ArticleID=22539

As you know, the nuns are already in Nigeria.

http://www.cam.org.au/News-and-Events/Features/Vocations/Article/15224/Tyburn-Sisters-invited-to-Nigeria#.U2PKZ4FdXlM

Here is a play I wrote for the nuns last year.

This play is written as a half-hour voice-over for a DVD format.  Quotations marks are on the exact words of Mother Marie Adele.

The voice is that of Mother Marie Adele Garnier, Mother Mary of St. Peter. One must have a French accent for this play.

Title: Mother Marie Adele Garnier, Mother Mary of St. Peter, Foundress of Tyburn

All in One Act with Ten Scenes: Scene One

First Act: Scene One, London overlooking Hyde Park

Mother Adele as a very old nun is saying goodbye to the world and waiting for the Bridegroom

She has asked her nuns to come around her but they are not there yet. The room is grey but peaceful, like a black and white dream. She is sitting in a half bed, half chair. She is old but peaceful. It is 1924.

Mother Marie Adele is thinking these thoughts: Voice-over

Mother Marie Adele:  The day is dark for June. But, the day mirrors the darkness of Calvary, when the storms blew across Golgotha at the death of My Lord. I have left notes and letters, like clues for my dear daughters, hoping they will understand the path I had to follow all these years. My dear daughters have been called to come to me for a blessing.  

I hope my life has taught my children here that Love is All.  I hope the Love of my Savior and King has led them to accept the Cross. What does this mean to them? What does this mean to the hundreds of people who pass by Tyburn on this street daily in London? What do they understand of sacrificial love?

But, I have prayed and suffered for each one of them, and for my confreres in France. Ah, France, you have left your throne to false gods, to the silly pursuits of these modern times. I shall never see your blue skies and roses again.

Mother picks up a book and a rosary…she is pensive.

The day is gloomy and reminds me of a day long ago in France, when I wrote a letter to dear Father Lemius,  I was in Villeneuve-sure-Yonne.

How can I share with all these in my care the necessity of perseverance?  I wrote to Father on that day? I pray I have been an example of the way of penance, all for the Bridegroom, Who I await.

Scene Two, younger Adele in French room at a writing desk.  She is in a simple habit, not the Benedictine one of her first scene. She is very animated and eager in her face and demeanor.

Mother Marie Adele Voice-over reads letter, and she writes and stops, and writes again.

“But, I think of heaven-I think of the work and the suffering which is absolutely necessary for us. That night I felt this call, always more forcible, more pressing, to a total renunciation,  to a complete abnegation, to the acceptance, loving, eager, without regret or bitterness, of all possible sacrifices for the glory and the consolation of His divine heart…..

They must know that they themselves count for nothing. And, that if they wish to work perseveringly and seriously for the sanctification of their souls, they must sacrifice themselves in everything and always for the glory of God, immolate themselves absolutely for the Sacred Heart, in order to win souls for Him.  For our dear France, so guilty, but above all so deeply to be pitied; for England, whither the Sacred Heart calls us; for the Church, the beloved Bride of Christ; for His vicar, our beloved Father. For the honour and the cult of Mary Immaculate….to live a life of suffering out of love…”

We are at the mercy of the French Government with the Associations Law, an infamous attempt to stop new orders and seize land…we had to wait to declare ourselves a religious community and all I had worked for under the guidance of my excellent spiritual advisors, all, seemed to be coming to naught.  I thought perhaps we would go to 40 rue de la Barre, or Belgium, but to England, land of martyrs.

But, leave we must, and Monsieur Audollent is sent from our dear Cardinal de la Vergne, the Father of this order, to Cardinal Vaughan. I must be ever patient, resting in the Sacred Heart. Ah, poor Archbishop Guibert, buried in the Basilica, we must leave him and all our memories.  Such is the Dark Night of the Soul, when God strips all. And yet, my Beloved knows I belong to Him and all my daughters belong to Him.  And, I recall the day the Cardinal said “This is from God”, ratifying my vision of permanent Adoration, and unity two great devotions, that of the Eucharist and that of the Sacred Heart. “This if from God.”

(A monstrance on an altar appears in the French room and the sun begins to shine everywhere.)

Over and over again, I faced this anxiety and pain. But, few knew why. The call of the nun is the call of the Bridegroom and yes, I am a Bride, but unlike so many called before, the Teresas, the Catherines, I had ecstasy  and then pain.  Most are called to the unitive state of being one with God after the Dark Night. But, for me, there was another dimension, another working of God’s grace in the world. I shall try and explain. 

Scene Three:  The room in Tyburn with the dying Mother Marie Adele.

Mother Marie Adele:  Montmarte, how we loved the hill of the martyrs, and yet, God called us, through His Eucharistic Heart to this country, this place of martyrs, this Tyburn.  Montmarte, now filled with the beautiful Basilica, which I perhaps will never see again.

That perhaps was the second lowest time in the growth of our dear community.  I cannot speak of the worst, the attacks of the evil one directly on my young nuns.  We endured and would have stayed in the shadow of Montmarte.  We, like the children of the Diaspora, were forced out. But, I did not want us to be separated. Remember, Dear Lord, how my heart ached. How I did not want to leave my beloved France, where in secret we had our little clothing ceremony, at Levallois-Perret, with dear Father Balme, who called us the la graine de moutarde.  We were so small, so small.

But, God sent me good advisors, as He always did, to guide us across the Sleeve to this place.

A few nuns with suitcases appear in the background at a port like Dover. They are greeted by other nuns.

But, I trusted, trusted in the darkness that this monstrous law would not touch us. Cardinal Vaughan responded to our request to come here…so long ago it seems…to adore The Eucharistic Heart of Jesus in the heart of London.

I shall never forget my Alice Andrade…soon to be my Mother Mary Agnes, as God will make her superior for a while…  la graine de moutarde.  

Scene Four:

Again, at Vllenueve-sur-Yonne,  they are in a rose garden by the house-but earlier and Marie Adele is in French 19^th century middle-class civilian clothes. Alice is much younger. They meet and embrace, soul sisters for life.

She was with me from 1896, and when we saw each other, she cried out to me “My Mother”. And I cried “My Daughter.”  So we were bound in the love of the Eucharistic Heart of Jesus.  She was 23 and I was 58. How odd that I thought I was old. Now, I am old. But, the journey of my life of perfection seems so short, so short.

Would we have started out knowing all the hardships? Does a married couple in love and happy think of the cruelties of life to come? No, we only think and feel love.  Mother Agnes and I wrote almost daily when apart, and she has kept all of those letters.  Someday, my daughters will read and wonder at the boldness of our undertaking in such a hostile environment as the Eldest Daughter of France had become…so sad, so melancholy.  But, we are the mustard seed in England, in this soil made fertile with the blood of Edmund Campion, Robert Southwell, Anne Line Oliver Plunkett and so many others.

Scene Five:  The room in Tyburn again.

The Tyburn Gallows, the Tyburn Tree, appears behind her and stays until all the nuns are gone.

She is interrupted by the nuns coming in and she blesses them. They all bow their heads in prayer but leave again, each bowing to her as they leave.

Mother Marie Adele continues: What I could not tell Mother Agnes for a long time was that the Bridal Love ended in a call to become a Victim Soul.  How does one explain a call to be a victim for others, for England, for France, for the clergy, even for my nuns? Can they see the love through the willing suffering of a soul which gives up all comfort for the sake of others?

I have another memory, one of my times of trying so hard to listen to the Will of God in my life, as that is all I ever wanted was His Will. How many long years, when I was a governess, did I beg my Bridegroom that only His Perfect Will would be done in my life? All for love.

I was in the Convent of Marie Reparatrice, in Paris, and I was in torment.  I think it was 1876, so long ago.  Staying in the community for eight days, in a little Nazareth, I was trying to understand how I could fulfill the Will of my Beloved. How could I, no one in the world, show the world His love in the Eucharistic Heart?

Scene Six: The room fades away and it is a little, simple nun’s cell in France, with one wooden chair, one bed, a crucifix.

On the way, I had seen close by, a house, and my heart started to pump wildly.  It stood out from the rest and I had the great sensation that I would be returning to Montmarte. And, I remember the number, 42.

Marie Adele is sitting in a plain chair when a nun bursts in and the scene continues in these words….nun does all the things Mother Adele describes in this passage from one of her letters.

But, on the way back, I stopped at LeMans and stayed again with the Reparatrices.  The nuns gave me a little room in which to rest, when suddenly, an old nun came into the room.  Then, she surprised me greatly. She came over to me and embraced me, saying, “Oh, it is you! I had begged Our Lord so much to let me see you again. I have something to tell you, but I could not have suspected that you were here! I mistook the door, I ought to have visited the retreatant who is in the next room. But, since it is Jesus who has led me here, I must speak to you on his behalf.”

“Taken aback, I made her sit down. Then I could not contain myself any longer. I threw myself into her arms, sobbing, and said to her, My Mother, oh my Mother, I beg you, tell me if it is Jesus who is calling. Yes, she replied, it is Jesus who will you to be a victim of His Eucharistic Heart. He wishes me to tell you this. Bewildered, overwhelmed, I no longer knew what was to become of me. The kind Mother said to me, Be happy, calm yourself, Jesus is calling you, have no doubt about this….Some time ago, a holy Religious from the south of France…wrote to me that Jesus was asking for victims consecrated to His Eucharistic Heart, that He thirsted for them, that He marked them out in the world and that they must be brought to Him…On reading her letter, your image then rose before me with such clarity and with so great an assurance of the Will of Jesus for you, that no doubt remained in my mind. From that moment, I have been begging Jesus day and night to make us meet again. It is He who allowed me to come to the wrong door.”

Her words created a brilliant light in my heart and mind. No longer could I doubt. I knew I was destined to return to Montmarte.  Amazingly, for my timidity was gone completely, I had no fear, no fear of the future to which God was calling me.

Scene Seven: Back in the room at Tyburn.   Mother Adele is in bed, with a nun beside her. Mother is very ill.

Her thoughts continue: But, I did not know, when the Dear Lord of my heart called me that day to be, first His fiancé and then, His bride, what suffering this would mean.

How could I understand the Passion of Christ without experiencing it and how could I be joined in love to Him unless He led me to Calvary.

My way has not been easy, as I have had an independent spirit.  This is a gift from God which must be crushed by love and love alone, but when Christ asked me to join Him in suffering, how could I say no.

As a younger person, I had ecstasies of love and contemplation, His gifts to His Bride, but now, I must rest in “grace that comes from the torture of Christ”.

The young nun wipes the head of Mother Adele and lifts her up to give her water. Mother Adele looks at her deeply and blesses her. A large crucifix, like the one at Tyburn on the stairs going up in the enclosure, appears behind her bed. Then, she sees all the nuns going about their work, cleaning, cooking, gardening, keeping watch in front of the Monstrance.

Her thoughts continue:  When the torture of the Cross passes, I am calm again, but how can I explain all this love to these young ones?  I have told them that if they follow the Rule of St. Benedict and allow themselves to be perfected, they will be led by Christ, through His Eucharistic Heart into the Unitive State.  Now, on my death bed, I await this last movement into unity.  I offered myself by the Vow of Victim in 1893 on March 31^st, Good Friday, at three, with my spiritual director l’Abbe Courtois’ approval, and now, 31 years later, I am finally coming to the consummation of that love.

“Jesus….showed me that for this I had to attain very great purity of heart, soul, mind and body, so that the victim—who would also be priest with Jesus, would be not defiled”. 

Such abandonment is barely understood, but our Father Benedict knew this and his Rule shows us the way.

Jesus finally told me that He was calling me to the interior priesthood, offering up daily, constantly all for and in and through Him. There is a mystery here I cannot explain. Do they know? Can they see? How can I explain suffering for others? How can anyone explain what happened on Calvary?

Some think kneeling in front of the Eucharist in the Monstrance must be a peaceful experience. It is not. It is joining with the moment of the death of God.

Mother puts her hand on the arm of the young nun and looks at her intensely.

So like the martyrs of Montmarte and Tyburn, I agreed so long ago to martyrdom. But, I did not know it would last so long. Such sanctification is in the daily, little things, as well as the great suffering of illness.  How long, oh Lord, how long? “Pray for me so that I might be faithful to love the Cross always and not desire to be freed from it.”

I have one more, dear, dear memory.

Scene Eight: Mother Adele is in full habit and writing to her new spiritual director. She is very happy, and serene. The day is bright, as it is August, and she is sitting in a garden with a writing desk on her lap.  She looks at the ring on her finger. She is smiling and looks beautiful in her face.

It was many years since I had been asked by Christ to make the mystical marriage, but I had been called to sacrifice myself and was reminded of the words of St. Paul in Romans.   I wrote to my new spiritual father Abbot Marmion, our guide in so many things to come.  In this letter, I told him of my double life, “It is as if in me there are two persons, one who is suffering terribly, who believes that everything is finished and that it cannot bear for long the torment of its anxieties and responsibility. And then, another that is sustained by God, by faith, accepting everything, who abandons herself to all, who, seeing with certainty that she can do nothing except rely on God and pray to Him, dwelling in peace adoring and blessing with all her heart and all her soul with an immense love and intense joy, the Lord her God, the Master infinitely great, powerful and wise…It is difficult to give an account of a state so complex, as a double life, one life natural, physical and moral, also sensitive to a certain extent, it is really pitiable, but at the same time a supernatural life, high, living of love, of conformity and of abandonment to divine Good Pleasure…”

A light covers Mother Adele and the entire room is bleached with this light. Her habit turns into a wedding dress for a moment and then back to her habit. At the end of the scene, a sun appears over a picture on the wall of the Tridentine Mass, Mother Adele’s Mass. But, she gets up and kisses the picture of the sun.

As I told Abbe Courtois years ago, God approaches me as light, a penetrating, gentle light, but that is gone now, as I am back in the darkness of Golgotha, but not for long.

How many other souls are there who are called to this bridal love and who may not answer? They do not because they know not love. But, if they would only come to the Eucharist, to Adoration, to Tyburn, these gentle souls would find love, as He is here.

I tell my daughters that “The Mass has become like the sun of my life.” This is the Sun of the Eucharistic Heart of Jesus. But, there are many mysteries in the world, and my acceptance of suffering for others is one.  I am sure there are many called to this type of existence.  How many answer yes?  Even the apostles fell asleep in Gethsemane. I cannot fall asleep into mediocrity or complacency.  For the sake of my Lord, my God, my All.

Scene 9:  All the nuns are with Mother Marie Adele as she is dying. They are singing the Salve Regina, and the room is full of the same white light as in the last scene.

Mother Adele thoughts again: It is June 17^th, my last day on this earth, in this place. I have just told Mother Agnes that I am happy. On this same day, in 1887, 37 years ago, I wrote out my first complete sacrifice to the Divine Will.

Nuns sing and the room is filled with light.  The Tyburn Altar to the Martyrs is seen and then the Eucharist at Tyburn, and finally, the Eucharist on all the altars of Tyburn around the world, Columbia, Peru, Scotland, Ireland, Rome, Nigeria, New Zealand, Australia,  Ecuador…. All the faces of the multicultural order are seen.  And, then, the grave of Mother Marie Adele at Tyburn with follows…with a young nun kneeling in front…fade out.

Mother Marie Adele’s thoughts continue:  There were others before me who understood this mysterious of love-St. Teresa of Avila, whose Spanish passion is so different yet like my own. St. Rita, St. Francis, St. Therese, our newest flower, and more who are being called.  Did I succeed in sharing love? Will they continue in this love? Will more come? 

Mother Marie Adele repeats the opening lines: The day is dark for June. But, the day mirrors the darkness of Calvary, when the storms blew across Golgotha at the death of My Lord. I have left notes and letters, like clues for my dear daughters, hoping they will understand the path I had to follow all these years. My dear daughters have been called to come to me for a blessing. 

Scene Ten: Mother Agnes  is in the garden of Tyburn. The voice of her and Mother Marie Adele are in her mind;

Mother, are you happy?  Oh, yes, I am so happy with God!...and with my children.”

Then, Mother Agnes reads this prayer:

 Father, all powerful and ever-living God, we give you glory, praise and thanks for the life and virtue of your beloved daughter, Marie-Adele Garnier. Filled with the riches of your grace, and preferring nothing to the love of the Heart of Jesus Christ, she devoted her whole life to the adoration, praise and glory of your Name: she sacrificed herself by prayer and penance for the unity and holiness of your Church; she loved her neighbor with a charity full of humility and compassion.  Above all, she found the Sun of her life in the Holy Mass, and so was consumed with zeal for liturgical worship and Eucharistic Adoration, and abandoned herself with all her heart to your most Holy Will is all things.

In your mercy Lord, hearken to our prayer: “Glorify your Servant Mother Marie-Adele Garnier, that your Servant may glorify You.”

We ask this through Our Lord, Jesus Christ, Your Son, Who lives and reign with you in the unity of the Holy Spirit, One God, world without end. Amen.

(Bibliography on request.)

Blog Fairy Tale-Part Two

The empress was sitting in the sunshine in the secret garden of the secret palace, when a grey covering came over her eyes. She tried to wipe the grey away, but could not. Stumbling, the empress rose and leaning on the arms of two of her maidens, she reached her darkened and cool rooms. But, the grey mist turned to black and the empress cried aloud, "Call for the emperor and my children. I cannot see."

Immediately, the maidens ran to the throne room where dozens of holy men and counsellors were gathering for the conference. The emperor immediately left the audience room and rushed to his wife's chambers. In the cool, almost silent rooms, the empress was crying softly. Around her gathered all of her children. The emperor sent his eldest son out to attend the guests, but the other youth stroked their mother's hands and gown. The emperor quietly sat next to his beloved wife.

"Dear One," he said. "Thankfully, we have the wisest and holiest of men among us for advice. I shall stay with you until this passes, and grieve with you if it does not."

The empress held both of his hands. A knock at the door of the chamber, and an ancient wise man in a grey cloak with a staff, stood waiting. A maiden came and whispered to the emperor that the man requested to see the empress. The emperor stood up and gestured for the man to come in. As the old man hobbled over to the empress, the young princes and princesses made a way for him, standing in a crescent around their parents. They were silent.

The ancient man spoke, "Your empress will be healed when each one of your children gives to her the most precious things each has. For she gave them life, and hearing, and sight, and now, they must give back in honour of her sacrifices."

The emperor stood up and addressed the ancient man, "If this is so, and if she is healed, you will become one of my household and tutor my youngest children in wisdom."

The man bowed and left the chamber. Then, the youthful siblings crowded around their mother and cried, pledging all kinds of wonderful gifts. But, the emperor stood, looking at them silently. He spoke, finally, with firmness.

"I know the gifts you must bring your royal mother, and those are your favourite colours."

The youth settled into a heavy silence. Then, one by one the princes and princesses left. The maidens shut the doors.

The emperor sat, holding his wife's hands. Then, the door opened and it was the youngest, the green-eyed prince. He was wearing white and holding a basket in which he had three things. He placed the basket at the feet of his mother. "I give you my emerald, by parrot, and the seeds to all my plants. My favourite thing is green, but from now on, I shall only wear white, in honour of my mother empress."

The emperor took the basket and placed his hand on the boy's shoulder. "You are blessed, Fourth Son. Come sit here beside me."

The large metal doors opened again and it was the yellow-haired prince with a  larger basket, and he knelt before his mother. The emperor noted that he was dressed in grey.

"For my dear mother, my amber jewellery, and two of the yellow puppies from my dog. I shall never wear yellow again. I shall wear grey to honour my mother's dark eyes, and this dark day."

The emperor stood up and put his hand on the shoulder of this youth. Then he told him, "You are blessed, Third Son. Take a seat next to your brother."

Just then, the youngest princess rushed in all in white. Her red hair was hidden under a white veil.  She had a white flower in her belt, but she was crying. In her arms was a huge basket.

"Dearest Lady Empress, my mother, here are all my rubies, my red cat, and my red roses. From this day, in honour of your love, I shall only wear white and never red."

The emperor embraced his Second Daughter and told her to sit next to her mother. Just then, the Eldest Daughter and the Second Son rushed into the room with large baskets. Both were dressed in brown. The Eldest Daughter cried, "Lady, Mother, for you I give up my corals, my orange flowers, and the key to the stable of my orange pony. I have cut my orange hair and made a braid. For you, I shall wear brown all my life." And, the Second Son said, "For my dearest empress, I give my giant sapphire, my blue cat, and all my blue clothes, so that she may be healed. And, I, too, shall wear only brown in days to come."

The emperor blessed these two and told them to sit next to their mother, when suddenly, the Eldest Son and Heir came into the chamber. He was holding nothing. He stood in front of his parents and bowed.

"For my beloved empress, Mother, I give up my claim to the throne." And, he kissed her hands.

All in the room were silent. Tears came to all their eyes. Then, the emperor stood up. "You have given your inheritance, but I give it back to you. Stay, and be the most gracious emperor of all." In the distance, the old man nodded to the emperor, unseen by the others.

The empress stood up. Her hands went to her face, and she bowed her head for a moment. Then, she looked and saw as clearly, in fact, more clearly than she ever had before.

From her place, she saw the ancient man in the doorway, who had been waiting for them. "Come and take these gifts and use them for your own. Old Man", she said. The young ones cried and clapped their hands in joy.

The ancient one said, "I shall only take the jewels, and give them to the world." With that, he took the jewels and stepped out onto a small veranda. With a swish of his arm, he cast the jewels into the sky. A strange bow appeared and all the colours glistened in the air. The youth ran to the window and looked at the bow. The empress'  favourite colour had joined the jewels and violet was in the sky with red, orange, yellow, green, and blue.

The emperor understood that gifts were given to his family to heal and to bring joy for the entire kingdom. He knew that his children had changed in one day from being spoiled and indulged to becoming self-less and loving. Suddenly, hundreds of people began to gather below the palace and stare at the coloured bow in the sky. The youth rejoiced that their gifts had healed the empress, and had made the people glad for the beauty of the bow.

That very night, the emperor held a feast for three days for all the guests and all the people of the city. the rainbow lasted for three days and then disappeared, only coming out when it rained with the sun in the sky, honouring the tears of the empress. Her children never looked so beautiful in white, brown, and grey. The emperor and empress lived to see their grandchildren. When they died, in the same week, so much did they love each other, the Eldest Son was given the multicoloured crown and jewellery of his mother. These he gave to his wife, the new empress. The princesses and princes had all married, and moved far and wide across the Earth with their children by that time and their children were happy and not spoiled, but loved to wear all colours of the rainbow. All the sons and daughter of the emperor and empress, however, kept their promises not to wear their beloved colours, or have jewels, or pets in those colours. But, many years later, it was said, that the Eldest Daughter, now married to a king across the sea, sometimes wore a multicoloured rose in her hair.

Blog Fairy Tale Two-Part One

A long time ago, in a land in the East, there lived a handsome emperor and his loving wife. They ruled a large land well and were greatly loved by the people. Now, these royal parents had six royal children. The eldest was a son, who wore silver and golden robes with red trim, and red shoes. This heir to the empire learned many languages, horse-riding, military skills, and government. He was young, but wise. And, in all ways, he was quite normal, for a prince. When he was born, there had been peace in the realm, and his parents rejoiced in hope at his birth. He was called the Eldest Son.

However, the siblings of this prince had come into the world under strange circumstances. Before the next child was born, the empress became ill, and the royal physicians suggest that she go west to eat strange orange fruits, and salmon, and shrimp to heal her illness. This the empress did, travelling west to both southern and northern land, with her young son and retinue. The empress became well again eating the prescribed foods, but when her daughter was born, within a year, the empress and emperor noticed that the child would not eat anything unless it was orange. So, the child ate salmon, shrimp, apricots, oranges, mangoes, carrots (which were rare, indeed) and any manner of orange produce. She ate pumpkin, and squash and tangerines. The empire had to scour lands far away for such food. As the child grew older, she only wanted to wear orange slippers and orange gowns. She wanted orange decorations for her room, an orange cat and orange flowers for her hair. The princess desired an orange pony, and merchants were sent far and wide to find one. As the child grew older, she developed a strange colour of hair, like than of straw in Autumn, but she was beautiful. Her favourite gems were of coral and all her jewellery was made of this. She was called the Eldest Daughter.

And, she was a happy and not  a really spoiled child, but she did prefer orange. Her older brother remained baffled.

Then, the empress became ill with another child she was lovingly awaiting and the new physician, (as the emperor had banished the one who prescribed orange food), and the empress was asked to go north and south again, but as she could eat nothing but blue berries, she went north, and ate strange berries like blue blackberries, blue berries, blueish potatoes, the lovely star-flowers of the East and blue lobsters, found by the merchants sent all over the world. The queen became healthy again, but she had a odd idea that her new baby would only like blue things.

She was right, and when the baby boy became two, he only wanted blue food, blue clothes, a room of blue, blue toys and a blue cat. The young prince grew up handsome, with blue-black hair and blue eyes, very rare for his people. When he was older, he asked for a blue sapphire ring and was presented with it by his father. The boy was called the Second Son.

Well, the emperor was intrigued by his own, strange children, but he loved his wife and could only think that some odd magic was involved. He called his holy men together, who all wore yellow, by the way, and they tried to understand but could not, the odd colour preferences of the young, royal children.

The children were not exactly spoiled, but the Orange Princess, as she was called, and the Blue Prince did get what they wanted in their colour range.

A few years passed and the lovely empress was with child again, and she became very ill. The emperor grew anxious, as she could not eat anything, and only drank cherry juice. The royal physicians had her go East across the sea to a strange land, and there, she ate strawberries, and cherries, and lingonberries. She ate pomegranates, red beets, rhubarb, tomatoes, red pears, raspberries,  red cabbage, cranberries, watermelon, red grapes and other red foods. The empress never felt better, and even ate red meat.

The physicians guided her back in a sumptuous boat filled with red foods, and in no time, the baby came into the world, a beautiful strong girl. Of course, the emperor, who had received letters of what the empress was eating, had a room decorated in red ready for the royal child, a red pony, a red cat, and a red bird singing in a cage.The Red Princess, of course, loved to wear only red clothes and red shoes and wear red roses in her red hair. Of course, her favourite gem was the ruby, and all her jewellery held these precious stones. She was called the Second Daughter.

The emperor began to realize that he had strange but gifted children. However, as they grew and did not want other colours in their private chambers and private games or sport, the emperor was a bit concerned for their future.

However, he was busy with some wars, sadly, and did not think much on the issue, as his children were happy and prospering, learning many things and growing stronger and more handsome daily.

The empress and emperor had such love between them that another child was born quickly after the Red Princess, but again, the empress became ill. This time, the royal physicians asked the empress to go south and east, to stay in the sun, and to rest by the sea. This the empress did, and she was hungry only for yellow things. She ate yellow cheeses, yellow peppers of several types, bananas, maize, pineapples, and yellow squash. She drank lemonade and told her maidens who served her that she never felt better in her entire life.

When she returned to the empire and the palace for the birth of the baby, the emperor had filled a room full of yellow things and had a yellow dog waiting for his wife. Of course, the baby, who was a boy, grew up only wanting yellow things and eating yellow food. He was the handsomest of all the sons. And his hair was like bright gold. On his ring finger, he wore a large yellow amber ring from the far western lands, and had a necklace to match. This youth was called the Third Son.

By this time, the emperor had decided that there was nothing really wrong with his children, as they were happy and strong and intelligent, but, except for the eldest, very strange about colours.

A few years passed and once again the empress was with child. However, she was more ill than ever, and the physicians became very concerned about her health. The emperor looked at his thin wife, who could not eat anything. He decided that this time, if she had to leave, he would go with her and watch over her carefully.

Indeed, the physicians wanted the empress to go as far west across the sea, and  a far south as possible. The emperor gave the rule of his empire to his eldest son and left with his wife. They travelled a long time over land until they came to a warm country with high mountains ranges and clear rivers. Here, they found green things to eat, which is all the empress could eat.

The empress ate lettuce, green tomatoes, artichokes, limes and avocados. She ate green grapes and pistachios nuts, and honey dew melons. She ate kale, green onions, cucumbers and most of all, kiwis. The empress stated that she never felt better in her life, and the emperor was glad.

When the time for the baby to be born was near, the emperor sent messengers back to his son to prepare a green room with a parrot on a perch, and green fish in a green pond. He asked for green plants and trees to grace the large room, like a conservatory, with other green birds flying loose in the bright, windowed room.

And, so the last prince loved green. And his eyes were the colour of emeralds, his favourite stone, of course. And he wore green clothes and emeralds only. He was called the Fourth Son.

The empress grew too old for more children, but secretly she had hoped for a child who liked the colour violet best, as she loved elderberries, plums and purple grapes. She also loved violets and amethysts, and most of all purple dahlias. But, no more children came. The emperor loved her so much, he gave her a ring with an emerald, ruby, amber, coral, sapphire, and diamond, (representing the oldest son), set cleverly,  for their wedding anniversary. He also gave her a broach to match and a crown with the same stones which graced the empress's head like a rainbow.

However, the emperor was uneasy about his fine five children, and their strict preference for one colour and so he decided to call a conference of all the wise men in the empire to the holy city, the capital, and discuss why this strange phenomenon had happened, and what could be done, if anything, to broaden the spectrum of colours in the lives of the five youngest children. The eldest son was invited as well. But, before the conference, a terrible thing happened.

To be continued....copyright 2013; began in 1978.

A Modern Fairy Tale, Part Four

The prince sat by the fire as the night covered the cottage. The cats and mice came in an sat with the woman, who continued her tale. The young prince took the three items out of his bag and placed them on the floor in front of the fireplace, where the flames lit these gifts up and made them look like things from heaven.

"The angels told me that the golden rose was real love, love not tainted by selfishness or pride, but sacrificial love, given only when asked and humbly. I did not know that type of love until many years passed, but now you have that love, and I give you the golden rose so that you will love another truly and for the sake of God, not yourself. You must always love someone as you love your own self, and always put their comfort before yours. When you find that princess, you may give her the rose.

The amethyst is both humility and truth. Wear it on your finger to never forget that it is only in God that we find our true selves. It is only in truth that we are made humble. Make it into a ring and wear it as king, to remind yourself that self-knowledge is the beginning of wisdom." The woman placed the gem in the prince's hand and picked up the scroll. "This," she said slowly, "is the story of my life. When you take it back, you must read it to your children, to remind them of the sins youth can commit, and the need for forgiveness and purification. You will be able to read the characters when your own heart is pure."

The woman placed the scroll in the prince's hand, and then told him how to finish his tasks.

"You must go back up into the mountain and destroy the bird-dragon, the puma-snake, and the false queen-monster. These are sins which must be destroyed not by violence, but by prayer and fasting. I shall give you water and bread. You will climb, and sit by the bird until it withered and dies, and do the same with all three evils. And so, I am freed and you are freed of the sins of the past, and for you, you will gain some purity of heart. And, when you come down, you will have knowledge which I shall give as to how to gain back your kingdom."

So, the next morning, when the yellow bird woke up the two, sleeping like brother and sister on the floor of the cottage, the young man left. He did exactly as told, and after the first 10 days, sitting, praying, and fasting by the bird which talked incessantly, the prince overcame the creature, and the bird-dragon withered and died. The desire for revenge and the nursing of anger died in the prince's heart.

The prince climbed up the path to the puma, and it jumped in front of him and sat, as before on its haunches. The prince knelt down and prayed and fasted for ten days. All that time, the puma stared at him, waiting to pounce. On the last day, the puma-snake withered and died. The wind blew away the carcass and nothing was left. The desire for power and status disappeared from the prince's heart.

Then, the prince knew the last task would be the most difficult. He climbed up to the stone where the beautiful silver queen sat. She looked at him with a strange smile. The prince did not want to look at the beauty of this queen. So, he turned his back on her and knelt down on the stone. He prayed and fasted, while she sang odd songs about love. But, the songs changed and became ugly, until on the tenth day, the lady turned into the black, ugly monster, stood up and died, choking on an ugly song. The prince continued up the mountain and realized that love for love had disappeared, along with self-pity. His heart was full of a new love,

He found the rope and went back to the cottage along the same path, but when he got to where the cottage should have been, it was gone. The woman was gone, the garden was gone, the pear tree and the yellow bird was gone. Nothing was left not even the three gifts in the basket. Then, the prince sat down on the grass and was anxious. He did not know how to win his kingdom back, as the woman had left in a mystery.

Suddenly, the prince looked up and saw four men standing at the far side of the river. They were the very nobles who had desired his death. The prince was no longer afraid, "What do you want?" He cried loudly as the river was full.

"Lord, we repent. Hear us. Look we have no weapons, no dogs. Yesterday, a strange and beautiful woman came to the castle. She sought us out and gave us this basket of mysterious things. Then, when we asked her why she had come, she said that you were the rightful king and we needed you. All at once, we could feel our hearts melting within us, and we concurred that we had been wrong. Then, in front of us, she disappeared. We knew then that she was some heavenly creature.

In the castle was an old serving maid of your mother's. She cried aloud when she saw the woman disappear. The servant knew her for your father's first love. We are changed. Please, we beg you to come back."

Then, suddenly, the river lowered and all the men were amazed that the prince could walk across without getting wet. When he reached the shore, the four nobles knelt and called him lord and king. The prince went back and was crowned king. He grew in wisdom and humility, and when he was a bit older, he found a lovely women to be his bride. She was the daughter of a poor man, but gentle as the breeze which blows across the green grass at the edge of the forest.where the cottage once stood and where a yellow bird sang from a pear tree long ago.

copyright 2013

A Modern Fairy Tale, Part Three

The prince noticed red rope tangled on the tree and when he went to touch it, it seemed strong and new. The prince unravelled the rope and then noticed that the other side of this flat top of the mountain was a straight cliff down to the green river. He then decided to use the rope to climb down the steep face of the cliff and into the river, as he hoped he could swim at least part of the way back to the cottage.

Within a half-hour, the prince was at the bottom of the cliff, but instead of the river coming up to the edge, a small path with stairs led down to the bank. And, the bank was flat and green with new grass. The prince was delighted and stepped onto the grass. Then, he proceeded south on the path along the green river. The distance to the cottage was a day of hard walking, but by nightfall, the prince could see the small smoke coming from the chimney of the old woman's hut.

She heard him coming and came out to meet him. The prince was startled, as instead of an old woman, there was a beautiful girl of about twenty in front of him.

"I am the woman, yes, and you have done well to follow my instructions. Now, let us go in for food and drink, and I shall tell you what these things are and how you are to regain your kingdom.:

The prince felt bashful at the woman's beauty, simple, yet true. He was bewildered by all the things which had happened.

The woman began her story.

"I am the daughter of a nobleman your grandfather loved. My father was your grandfather's steward and when I was the age I am now, your father fell in love with me. However, your grandfather, then king, had arranged a marriage for your father with as wealthy queen beyond the mountains. At first, your father promised me that he would marry me for love, but when he thought more hand more about the queen's wealth and power, he allowed his father to take me away at midnight to this small place. The guards who brought me here were killed so that no one knew where I was. Because of the faithfulness of my father, the steward, I was not killed. However, the old king told everyone that I had run away. My parents died quickly of grief as I was there only child. Only three cats and two mice I had fed daily followed the trail and found me here.

I was miserable, and full of hate and anger. My anger became so real that it turned into a bird of fantastic colours and flew up into the mountain. It was full of lies and resentment and pretended to be something other than anger.

I was also grieving for my lost love, but, also, selfishly, for the status and power I had lost as well, as my young love for the prince, your father, was immature and shallow. That grief and resentment turned into a puma-serpent, racing up the mountain, pretending to be power and to give power.

Lastly, I mourned for my lost beauty and youth, and wept that no man loved me, letting sorrow and self-pity seep into my soul until it became as hard as metal,. That false pity turned into a lovely queen with a heart of stone and she, too, fled up the mountain to tempt and lie. But, self-pity is a dark monster, as you saw.

But, after many years, I forgave your grandfather's power and your father, now king's weakness. And, as I forgave, two angels sent from God healed my heart and soul and brought me a basket with a few gifts. The first was the golden rose, the second the amethyst, and the third the scroll. The angelic beings told me that the day a prince would come to find these things for my sake and his, he would regain his throne. Then, the angels took the gifts and placed them on the mountain, as you found them.

Now, prince, let me tell you the meaning of the gifts and how you are to claim your kingdom."

To be continued....copyright 2013

A Modern Fairy Tale, Part Two

As the prince entered the forest, he looked back at the old woman standing in her garden. For a moment, he was confused, as she looked forty years younger, as if he could see her as her father did. But, the clouds covered the sun, and rain pushed him in to the trees. Now, this forest was made of pine and fir, as the woman's cottage was high in the foothills, across a plain which the river in older days had flattened with flooding. The prince lifted his satchel and began to climb up the hills of fir, then pine, then light birch, until, finally, he was on rocky ground, beyond the tree line. For a moment, he looked back and could see nothing but the green darkness of the trees. He realized the rain has stopped and that he was hungry.

Sitting on a rock, the young prince, open his satchel to find a complete dinner, including wine, bread, cheese and eggs. He marvelled at the luncheon and ate at once. As he was finishing, the prince heard a scratching noise to his left, just at the edge of the line of trees. He stood up, a bit afraid, as he had no sword or armour.

In a high branch of a yellowing birch, the prince could see an large, bright bird. This bird was one he did not recognize. The plumage of the bird was of rainbow colours, and its tail was as long as the prince's arm. But, most amazing, is that it spoke.

"Prince, do not be deceived by this old woman. She is really a witch and I am a young man she put under a spell years ago. I, too, am a prince, but I only need the golden rose from the cleft in the rock to be free from my spell. Will you help me?" The bird's voice was like velvet, and for a moment, the prince thought of bringing the rose to the bird-man. But, the prince remembered the woman's words, and that she had saved him from death. He decided not to answer the rainbow bird, but move up higher into the rocky cliffs ahead.

"You will regret not helping me," said the bird, but the prince carried on. He stopped for a moment on a stone ledge and looked back towards the bird, but it had changed shape and seemed like a dragon to him. The young prince was frightened, but continued his quest. After walking most of the day, and it was a hot day, the prince sat down by a small stream to drink some of the cool mountain water. When he bent over to reach the water, he saw the golden rose. The flower was the most beautiful rose he had ever seen. As he bent over to pick it, he caught some movement from the corner of his eye. The prince snatched the flower and put it in the satchel. But, as he stood up, he saw a puma sitting on its haunches and staring at him.

The prince now was definitely afraid. His hands shook, but he stared back at the puma, whose coat shimmered in the setting sun. The puma spoke and its voice was like the sound of water, cool and comforting.

"I smell your fear, Prince, but I want something of you. I want the purple stone which lies in the stream above us. I cannot get it myself, but if you give it to me, I have the power to make your enemies fear you for the rest of your life. I shall give you power."

The prince did not answer the puma but he did something very brave. He turned away from the large cat and resumed his climb up the mountain. He decided to trust the old woman. When he had climbed about twenty feet, the prince looked back at the sunlit puma, but the animal had changed into a large serpent, coiled and red. The prince continued his climb, and as he put his had on top of the next rock jutting out, his hand felt cold, cold water. The prince threw himself up on the large, flat rock above and saw a tiny stream coming out of the ground. Where the stream came out of the small hole in the ground lay an oval amethyst as beautiful as the dawn. The prince picked it out of the mud and put it in his satchel.  As he stood up, he saw the most incredible sight of all. A beautiful woman in silver sat on a throne with animals surrounding her. She was as white in skin as the silver in her dress, and her shoes were made of silver. She spoke, and her words were like the tinkling of bells in a valley. Her hair was as bright as the sun. And her eyes were as sparkling as dew on the grass in summer.

"Why do you believe a hag, a wretched woman when I can tell you the real tale. I can give you devotion and love if you would only bring me the scroll which is on top of the mountain which I cannot climb. I can make you happier than you can imagine, for happiness is in my gift."

The young prince was almost, for a second or two, taken in by the beauty of this woman. But, his heart trusted the old woman, and as he passed her and her retinue of animals, one a large bear which growled at him when he passed, he began to climb the steepest cliff of all. He struggled hand by hand to the top and when he reached the small ledge, he turned and looked back to see the bright queen, as he thought she was, but instead, he only saw a horrid monster with black tentacles and large empty eyes.

The prince turned and saw a withered tree the size of a shrub and in the branches was the white scroll with odd black characters. He took the scroll, and put it in his satchel. Then, he sat down and wondered how he would get past the monsters left behind, down the path.

To be continued....copyright 2013

A Modern Fairy Tale in Four Parts, Part One

Once upon a time, in a cold climate, there lived an old woman with grey hair and sad eyes. She lived in a very small cottage by a small river. Behind the cottage was a dark and thick forest. Behind the forest were tall, cold mountains. The old woman knew the forest and would gather things to eat there. She gathered berries, leaves for soup, and wild carrots. She gathered mint, and rue, and hickory for tea.

The old woman was not ugly, but plain. She had two sets of clothing-one for winter and one for summer.

The summer set of clothing was pale rose, like an old rose, with light sleeves made of a light material, as light as the breeze. Her winter clothing was dark, dark blue, like the sky at night and was made of sturdy wool. Both sets of clothing responded to her wishes, like live creatures.

The old woman had a small garden and a pear tree.

She had three cats and two mice, who were allowed to live in the garden, and as they were dormice, the creatures were content with seeds and water.

The old woman had a small fireplace, one cup, one plate and one set of silver ware. She also had two books.

But, one day, her quiet life was interrupted by the braying of hounds. She left her small room and went out into the front of the cottage and peered over the green river. There, she could see a young man with coal black hair, like a raven's, running for his life.

Behind the young man, who the woman recognized as a prince from his clothing and demeanour, and from a hollow feeling in her heart, were a pack of dogs, howling and attempting to reach the young man.

Now, the old woman was not a witch, but she did have some secrets. One secret was that she could make the river level lower by a prayer taught to her a long time ago by an angel, so she prayed, and, for a few minutes, the green river became a stream. The young prince was astonished, but plunged away reaching the other side just as the river became a rushing torrent, as it was spring, and the winter snows were melting on the mountains above the forest. The dogs could not cross the river and remained on the far shore.

The young man, whose brown and green clothing were hardly wet said to the woman, "Hid me, for the men who are behind the dogs want my life." So, the old woman placed her summer rose coloured cloak over him and he disappeared from sight. Just then, four men arrived at the edge of the river and shouted,
"Old woman, have you seen a young man running this way?" The old woman answered, "I see no one like that, sirs, do you?"

The men looked at the dogs panting for breath on the river's edge and answered, "No, we do not see anyone. And no one could cross this river as it is today." They turned and dragging the dogs with them, left.

The woman could see them travelling for about a half-mile of the plain behind. Then, she went into the cottage where the prince was waiting inside.

"Here is your cloak, old mother, and I thank you for saving me.What can I do for you?"

"Prince, as I see you are, you must be honest and tell me why they are chasing you to kill you?"

The prince sat down on a small wooden chair carved like a swan. He stared at the strange woman.

"My father abandoned the kingdom years ago to sail away in a ship for southern lands. Word came back to us that he is long dead. I am his rightful heir. But, these lords, seeing that I was not yet a man, wanted to kill me and share the kingdom for their own. My mother and my sister are gone as well, so I am alone."

"Are you a witch, as you do not feel like a witch?"

The old woman smiled. "No, I am a Christian long exiled from your own kingdom by your own father many years ago. He was to marry me, but wanted another, wealthy wife, your own mother, and to rid himself of my presence, which reminded him of his broken promises, he exiled me. I was forgotten by all, and I forgave him and his people. One the day I forgave him, angels came to me and gave me a few gifts. I use these gifts rarely.  As you are the son of one I loved, I shall help you, but you must obey my small instructions. You are full of anger and revenge and pity for yourself. These things must be addressed."

The prince marvelled at the old woman's words and was ashamed, but remembered a tale spoken of by some of the servants of a beautiful maiden, as poor as a church mouse, but loved by the king, who disappeared a long time ago. As she had no family, no one searched for her, except some mice and a few cats, who found her finally on the other side of the river,

Their descendants, the cats and mice, lived with the old woman as her only companions, except for one small yellow bird, who woke her every morning.

The woman looked at the prince for a long time. She made some tea for him. Then, she spoke, "You are to undo the injustice of your own father by helping me so that you will be king as you should be. But, you must follow some simple instructions and climb the mountains behind the forest to find three things.

The first is a golden rose, never seen before, but growing in a cleft in the rocks. The second is an amethyst, as pure as dawn, lying in a small stream. And the third is a white scroll with words unknown to you written in black characters hanging from a tree at the top of the highest mountain. Bring these to me and you will be king, overcoming your enemies. But, you will have distractions and you must ignore all things and persons or creatures which will try and dissuade you from this task."

The young prince eagerly agreed to all these things, being young and adventurous, and a bit naive. But, none the less, the next morning, with a satchel of food and drink from the old woman, he set off for the mountains of snow and ice.

To be continued...copyright 2013

Walsingham: A Drama in Three Acts

Walsingham: A Drama in Three Acts copyright 2013

A Play on the History of Walsingham Pilgrimage Site for the Contemporary Audience

Characters in order of appearance:

Act One: One Scene with Moving Tableaus (not still)

William Shakespeare

Lear

Cordelia

King Louis from Lear

Richeldis and Sir  Geoffry (son) de Faverche or Favarches

Carmelite Anchorites Giles and Nicodemus

Augustinian Friars

Richard II

Act Two: Three Scenes with Moving Tableaus

Scene One

Shoemakers of Walsingham

Bircham, Copping, Wehh, Castleton, Clark, Hall, Johnson, Powell, Ringstead, Woodcock

Scene Two

St. Philip Howard

Henry VII

Henry VIII

Katherine of Aragon

Anne Boleyn

Courtiers

Scene Three

Mob of 1537

Thomas Sydney

Pub and Innkeepers, the Bull, the Black Lion, the Crown, the King’s Head, the White Lion, Exchange Inn,

Act Three: Two Scenes with a few Moving Tableaus

Scene One:

Anne Dacre

Lady Throckmorton (1651)

Dooks, a little white dog

Rev Edward Worseley

Martyrs of Walsingham Laity and Augustinian Friars

St. Philip Howard

Martyrs of Walsingham Laity and Augustinian Friars

2013 members of the town; unidentified, shop-keepers, pub owners, clergy, a few pilgrims, etc.

Scene Two:

Burton, Turnkey at the Bridewell 1797

(Staging is modern techniques, such as black stage backdrops for spot lighting; backdrops include only minimalist architectural designs, the largest being the ruined priory arch which stands today, the House of Nazareth, the original shrine, the sea at the Norfolk coast, a Tudoresque hall, and a modern street in Walsingham with shops. One image for each scene as indicated. All the actors in the First Act must speak in upper class, king’s English. As to the sets, there are options depending on money. Of course.

These would be more powerful if actually made of wood, but if money is an issue, can be photographs on canvas with lights in the background to show designs; muted colours, not bright, such as greys, blacks, browns, etc. until the modern scene of today, which would be in natural colours; same with costumes, which, although all of the time of the characters (historically correct) would be all in browns, blacks and greys, until the modern scene, again, with colours. One might ask some of the current inhabitants of the village if they would be willing to be in that last scene in normal attire. I am sure some would be happy to take part.)

Act I: Scene One

The Introduction by Shakespeare

(Dark Stage, with spotlight into which walks, stage right, William Shakespeare in historical dress.. He has a Peter Wimsey type voice)

William Shakespeare: Those of you who have been following the thing you call television or other sources, know by now that I am a Catholic. Of course, I hid many hints in my plays and sonnets to this effect. (Sighs)

Look here, look here. (He points with his left hand to the new spotlighted area to his left and, of course, the lines are from the end of the play).

{Second Spotlight appears on Lear, Cordelia, and King Louis of France scene)

France: Will you have her? She herself is her dowry…

Fairest Cordelia, thou are most rich, being poor,

Most choice, forsaken and most loved, despised!

Thee and they virtues here I sieze upon;

Be lawful! I take up what’s cast away.

Gods, gods, ‘tis strange that from their cold’st neglect

My love should kindle to inflamed respect.

Thy dowerless daughter, king, thrown to my chance,

Is queen of us, of ours, and our fair France.

Not all the dukes of waterish Burgundy

Can buy this unprized precious maid of me.

Bid them farewell, Cordelia, though unkind:

Thou losest here, a better where to find.

(Spot light fades as King and Cordelia hold hands.)

William Shakespeare: Hmm, the new critics missed the point here, as I was referring also to the Queen of Heaven, the real Queen of England and France, Our Lady of Walsingham, now dowerless after the horrors of Henry’s playfellow’s designs. But, I am racing ahead.

The dowry of Mary is England. The Recusants knew this. I know this. Cruelly was her dowry snatched from her by thieves and murderers, assassins, one of my favourite words, which I invented, by the way. Her beautiful image taken to Chelsea and chopped up for firewood. Here. (He points again to the left and we see thugs chopping up a wooden statue of Our Lady of Walsingham in the streets of Chelsea and throwing the bits into a fire.) So many wept at the stealing of her land, England, by those who only loved themselves. Well, they have an eternity to think about their deeds.

Our Lady of Ipswich image was also chopped up for firewood, as was an image from Wales, used to burn a holy friar, named Forrest, the image brought to London for the purpose of martyring this good man. (spotlight goes to friar being burnt at the stake with image pieces).

She is her own dowry, Our Dear Lady and Mother. She, dowerless, desires that all England come back to her loving reign, as one of our later popes have said. I read Leo XIII’s words for you. (He holds up a scroll “When England returns to Walsingham, Our Lady will return to England.”  In 1893, the English Catholic Bishops dedicated the land to Mary, Our Mother, again. She will not return to England unless the Catholics return to Walsingham. Our bishops, our priests, you and I, the laity, we must pray for this. We must work for this.

But, perhaps you do not know of Walsingham and Mary’s Dowry. Let a little story of this great shrine begin. Ah, I do miss directing… This is fun. Shall I start at the beginning, or in media res? Hmm, let me start with the gentle Richeldis in the year 1061.

(Spotlight leaves Shakespeare and moves on to the original shrine of the House of Nazareth and two characters, Richeldis and her son, Sir Geoffry standing by an outside altar, before the building of the shrine. The altar stands on a grassy flat plain before many trees.  Richeldis is holding a vase of Roses and speaking with her son. They are dressed in subdued colors, but the costumes of their day. Richeldis is wearing a small coronet.)

Richeldis: Since the Dearest Queen of Heaven came to me, I have desired this day, my son. Here, in this place, we have made a little Nazareth, where the Angel Gabriel told Mother Mary she was to be the God-Bearer. How wonderful that Mary has created a holy stamp, an image of that sacred place here.

Geoffry: Dear Mother, may I continue your work here and invite the Augustinians to continue your work with our monies, my heritage?

Richeldis: This is my dream, dear one. Yes, let all England come here to honour the Mother and praise the Son.  This statue will wear my coronet, given to me by your father on the day of our marriage. As we were crowned husband and wife, so she is crowned the Heavenly Bride. (Richeldis takes off her crown and puts in on the head of the wooden statue. If this statue has to be a canvas backdrop, an option, Richeldis lays it on an altar in front of the image.)

Geoffry: Mother, Our Lady of Glastonbury will be the only image which takes precedence to this, Our Queen and Prince. I shall see this shrine endowed for years to come. We shall build a small domicile, 16 yards long, 10 yars wide and a little wooden chapel inside of 7 yards by 30 feet long, just like Mary’s little house in Nazareth.

Richeldis: Ask the good Carmelite anchorites to buy more boats, with some of your inheritance, to ferry the pilgrims from the North, as I see in my mind, many coming here throughout the ages. England will be renewed if Mary is honored in this little house, this small shrine of Nazareth.

Geoffry: Ah, mother, look, pilgrims, here, now.

(Enter two Carmelite friars with a small group of mixed poor and wealthy pilgrims-maybe six or seven.)

Giles: Noble Richeldis, we have heard of your holy house called the New Work, and bring these good people from the far north. They come from York and the West Riding to see your image. We have boated them from my anchor hold in All Saint’s near Bishop’s Lynn. But, my shoes are so wet, please forgive me if I take them off on this holy ground.

Nicodemus: I shall remove my sandals as well, as here Mary has visited our people, the Normans and the Anglo-Saxons, together blessed by Our Lady. We have come from Long Sutton, by the Wash. Some have come from Norwich, via Attlebridge and Bechospital, the hostel there. Already, there is talk of a great accommodation for thirteen poor pilgrims to stay over night in that area.

First Pilgrim: Yes, I stayed at an inn free! And had a full English breakfast!

Geoffry: We shall begin to do penance for England, by walking barefoot for a mile outside this shrine. What do you think, Mother?

Richeldis: Yes, and I, too, now removes my shoes in honor of Our Lady. Welcome, Palmers, welcome, all.

(All the pilgrims bend over and take off their shoes, kneeling on the floor in front of the image and altar. Richeldis places the vase of roses on the altar.)

This scene ends with the singing of the Ambrosian Hymn  one of the oldest hymns. And they say, first, the little prayer of St. Aldhelm. Augustinian Friars join the group in song.)

Prayer of St. Aldhelm

O Virgin Mother of our God, O Star

Of life’s dark sea, we have thee from afar;

O, by they merits keep in spotless fame,

This altar sacred to they glorious name.

Aeterna Christi munera, 
Et martyrum victorias, 
Laudes ferentes debitas, 
Laetis canamus mentibus. 
Ecclesiarum principes, 
Belli triumphales duces, 
Coelestis aulae milites, 
Et vera mundi lumina. 
Terrore victo saeculi,
Spretisque poenis corporis, 
Mortis sacrae compendio, 
Vitam beatam possident. 
Traduntur igni martyres, 
Et bestiarum dentibus, 
Armata saevit ungulis 
Tortoris insani manus, 
Nudata pendent viscera, 
Sanguis sacratus funditur, 
Sed permanent immobiles 
Vitae perennis gratia. 
Devota sanctorum fides, 
Invicta spes credentium; 
Perfecta Christi charitas, 
Mundi triumphat principem. 
In his Paterna gloria, 
In his voluntas Filii, 
Exsultat in his Spiritus, 
Coelum repletur gaudiis. 
Te nunc, Redemptor, quaesumus, 
Ut ipsorum consortio 
Jungas precantes servulos, 
In sempiterna saecula. Amen.

(Light fades and Shakespeare returns in a spotlight to the stage right, as in the beginning)

William Shakespeare: Sweet. And, as I am an actor, I shall read the first mention of England as Mary’s Dowry as we wrap up this part of the story, which would make a great play, doncha’think?.

But, first, let me remind you that Glastonbury, as noted by Sir Gregory, was the primary shrine of Our Lady, and William of Malmsbury, in the 12^th century, noted this great place of water and peace. But, I shall let someone else tell you of that. Even before Glastonbury, St. Augustine, England’s Apostle, built a church in honor of Our Ever-Virgin, at Ely, not too far from here, as the crow flies. One of my favourite ladies, St. Etheldreda, rebuilt the church, after it was destroyed by Penda, one of the first kings to hate Our Blessed One. Such a precedent…the destruction of places dedicated to Mother Mary, began so early. But, again, I race ahead with the advantage of an eternal view. William, Bishop of Norwich, between 11-46 and 1174, invited the Augustianians into Parva Walsingham to set up the great priory. Geoffry de Favarches granted to Edwy, his clerk the chapel which his mother had built and the palmers came in the hundreds.

Here is dowry reference, which we all knew and loved until Henry, who, by the way, destroyed all the records of this shrine and others. How he came to hate Mary and her Son. (He shakes his head and holds up the scroll.)

The Solemn Consecration of England to Our Lady.

(King Richard II comes in and snatches the scroll from Shakespeare).

King Richard II: I beg your pardon, actor, but I can read my own decree. And, I hate your play about me.

William Shakespeare: Sorry, I was being a bit too politically correct.

King Richard II. A bit? You ruined my reputation for centuries, cad.

William Shakespeare: Well, I was being paid by the Tudors and Boleyns.

King Richard II: I shall speak with you later. These good people want to move on to the gory stuff. There all used to computer games and you are so long-winded, Will. But first, the pledge…one of the best things I ever did was make this consecration. Well, if Mary Our Queen of Heaven can forgive you, I suppose I can. But the play is awful. Poor Anne, how she suffered…

William Shakespeare: Stop it, my Liege Lord and read.

Richard II: Alright.

O Blessed Virgin here

Behold this is thy Dowerie.

Defend it now, preserve it still

In all prosperities.

William Shakespeare: Is that it?

Richard II: Well, there is a bit more about making the shrine a national site and stuff. But Henry…destroyed all the documents and this is a historical guess. It is in the Bodelian, I think.

I was here, you know, in 1315. The pub was great-lovely lamb and good French wine. Anne especially loved getting new shoes made after the mile walk. She chose white lamb’s skin with embroidered roses. Of course, some kings came before me.

William Shakespeare: Really?

Richard II: Yes, Henry III came in 1241 and Edward I came two times, 1280 and 1296. (He can be thinking on his fingers, as it were.) David Bruce came three years after me, in 1364, but I do not know if he left anything. We all left many gold things, like jewelry, swords and scabbards, even small trinkets, like medals made of gold and silver, and our own rings. Of course, Henry Creep stole them all for you-know-who.

William Shakespeare: That is all in the next act.

Richard II: You don’t say. I think I shall join these curs, and watch the rest of the play.

William Shakespeare: Ah, there is a chair just for you, my Lord. ‘Til Act II, adieu. King sits on a chair at the edge of the audience.)  By the way, do you know that there is a window in the now Anglican church, which has you in it, as well as Henry Creep?

Richard II: What? Me in a window with a Tudor! I have to see this, Will. I am sure the Wilton Diptych is better. Where is this thing?

William Shakespeare: I shall take you there. Do not be too upset, my Lord. The widow is modern.

Richard II: Let us go, then.

(They leave and the First Act ends).

Act II

(The act begins with many men at shoe working benches with tools making shoes. The stage is brightly lit at first. There are shoes everywhere. These actors must use broad Norfolk accents, as a break from the above and the typical Shakespearean technique of alternating upper and lower class scenes.)

Copping: How much did you make last year, Bircham?

Bircham: Not bad, but I am not going to tell you. Too many shoes in the tithe barns, though. And, if I have to be honest, I would have to pay more taxes, and more tithing. Plus, the misses has another bun in the oven.

Clark: My oldest one in Betherton, a long way away, says the tithe barn there is enormous. He is making shoes with very odd designs.  He said that there is more tax on the pointed ones—the longer the point, the higher the tax.

Copping: I remember the old days when all the shoe taxes were the same. Blast it. The next thing you know, they’ll be taxing the slits in the sides where the silk stockings show through. Can they tax a hole, I wonder?

Bircham: Hey, Ringstead and Wehh, you’re awfully quiet today.

Ringstead. I am not in the mood to talk.

Wehh: He knows somethun’

(All stop working and look at Ringstead)

Clark: What do you know? Are we going to have a special group of Palmer’s from London? They always want new shoes.

Wehh: He ain’t gonna tell. Are you, Ringstead?

Ringstead: I am not talking.

Bircham: Woodcock, Smith, get over here. What’s with Ringstead?

Woodcock: It’s the Second Visitation.

(Silence)

Hall: Those goons aren’t commin’ agin, are they?

Wehh: Ringstead has a brother-in-law in Norfolk who said that they were shoeing horses three days ago and visitin’ monasteries and priories across the plains, up from London. Some of the Palmer’s left early from Attlebridge and went back home, rather than coming here.

Ringstead: Shut up, Wehh. This is my business.

Bircham (getting up in a threatening way and going over to Ringstead) This is all of our business. If they are going to shut down the shrine, our businesses will go. Cannot you see that, Ringstead?

Ringstead: I only know what my sister’s kin said.

Clark (getting up as well). I heard that in Glastonbury, some of the tailors moved out, even as far as Wells, to save business. I also heard that up in Fountains, some of the sheep shearers were making to create guilds separate from the Abbey. 

Bircham: One has to think of one’s family first. A revolution is not a dinner party.

Castleton: One has to think of God first.

Wehh: You will be the first to go with that fairy attitude.

Clark: If the shrine is closed, we all lose our jobs. There will be no need of shoes, as the pilgrims won’t be comin’, won’t be leaving their shoes at the Slipper Chapel.

Castleton: We need to stand up to this. No one has a right to destroy religion. No one.

Hall: I heard rumors of places, like even…what’s that noise?

Castleton: Horses, horses. (He gets up and looks out stage left)

Visitators. Right here, in the street, in front of the Priory.

Copping: I can’t believe this is happening in Walsingham. Henry was just here in my dad’s day.

Hall: Yeah, dancing with the royal whore.

Bircham: I wonder if they need shoes?

Clark: This is war on the Church in 1535.

Woodcock: Who took the Oath here? Which one of you have taken the Oath?

.

(Some hold there heads down)

Castleton: I will never take the Oath. (He leaves).

Wehh: You can be holier than me, but I took it and all my kin. I do not understand all this anyway. Besides, what has the Church done for me?

Castleton: Provided you and your family with work for generations…that’s all. Given you the Holy Bread and shriven you once a year so you don’t go to hell.

Bircham: I no longer believe in hell, or the Church, but only in Bircham and my family.

Clark: You cannot say that. You cannot turn your back on Mary, Our Lady of Walsingham.

Ringstead: I can and I will.

Wehh, and several others. No, we will fight, we won’t let them take the friars. One is George Aysborrow, the subprior. I can see his face. He has been beaten. There ae about sixteen friars in ropes and chains.

(Castleton had gone out and runs back in.): They have gotten Nicholas Mileham and Tom Guisborough. They’ve got them by the hair.

Ringstead: Those men were in prison all night. Thomas Cromwell said that it was never merry in England since the litany was brought into the service. I agree with him. Get rid of this popery.

Clark: And you knew this, you?

Wehh: Let’s go help them.

(He is stopped by Ringstead.)

Ringstead: It’s the times, Wehh, think of your Cecily and your Thomas. Think of us. Painted timber is not God. God is not in that image.

(Castleton leaves quickly. Bircham is at the door)

Bircham: They are taking them out and I betcha I know where they are going. Now, they got six more friars, but I cannot see their faces.

(Sound of horses neighing and loud voices yelling, Traitors, devils)

Clark: God have mercy on us.

Bircham: One has the image. One has the Lady on his horse.

(They all look out the door and windows)

Wehh: Look, Castleton is fighting one of the king’s men. They’ve got him down.

Ringstead: Religion makes no difference. It’s all the same. Men get what they want. You get what you want and I get what you want.

Bircham: Clark, look after Mary. I am going with Castleton. Look, one visitator is Richard Southwell. Hypocrites all. Blood, blood on the saffron plants across the road.

Clark: You? You cynic? You are going…?

Bircham: Taking the Lady is too much. Look after my Mary, as I look after Jesu’s Mary.

Hall: The friars are singing. Listen:

O blessed Virgin, praise to thee;

England thy Dowrie

Was lost, is turned by thee againe

From schisms and heresies.

(Lights out and the scene changes)

Scene Two: (Dark night in the main street of Walsingham. A man in aristocratic dress is standing in the middle of the street. He is St. Philip Howard. There is a large barn owl hooting, The spotlight is on Howard. He has a scroll. He is standing on stage left.)

Philip Howard: I have my poem here. It is not too long. I want to read it to you. It is about how “brazen faced heresy” stole my Lovely Lady of Walsingham.

I call it Lament of Walsingham. But, before I read it. I want to share a story of a king’s life, or at least, his love of Walsingham.

Henry VIII first came here—no wait—let me start with his father, Henry VII.

After Henry VI came in 1455 and Edward IV in 1469, leaving wondrous gifts, Henry VII came in thanksgiving in favour of a battle of Lambert Simnel in 1487. After the Battle of Stoke, he sent a banner and willed a gold statue of himself to Our Lady. Young Henry came with his fiancée, Katherine. That was the first visit of the corrupt king.

In 1510, Henry VIII walked barefoot in the last stage and gave a fantastic necklace to the Holy Queen, which, typical, he took back 28 years later.  His saintly wife, his real wife, Katherine, came with him in that year of 1510 and she came again in 1513 to give thanks for the victory of the battle of Flodden. Happier days of gratitude and love for Our Lady…

(As he is referring to these incidents, spotlights at stage right highlighted these royal pilgrims walking and kneeling before the image of Our Lady. They leave gold jewelry and especially the large, valuable necklace from Henry VIII.)

(A spotlight moves to a Tudor dancing hall where Henry sees Anne Boleyn and asks her to dance, interrupting another man who is with her).

But, Henry’s third visit to the area was the beginning of the end of Catholic England.

Just up the road apiece (Howard gestures), Henry saw Anne Boleyn for the first time and danced with her. What a dance they made, in the ruins of the One, Holy Catholic Church, a dance which continues today in the ruins of Walsingham.

I cannot remember the date, maybe 1523. She was always engaged to someone or another.  However, that meeting has led to this lonely owl hooting in the ruins of the priory. (Priory arch comes up in the back of the mostly grey stage.)

I must confess that I ignored my own dear Anne for years, caught up in the court. But I repented and her love for me never failed.

Here is my poem, which I wrote in prison before my own death by starvation and illness in 1595. And, by the way, if you caught the name of one of the visitators, Richard Southwell, his grandson is also one of the great martyrs, Robert Southwell. Such was the chaos and choices of families in those days. (An owl hoots) Ah, my poem.

A Lament for Walsingham

In the wrecks of Walsingham

Whom should I choose

But the Queen of Walsingham

To be guide to my muse?

Then, thou Prince of Walsingham,

Grant me to frame

Bitter plaints to rue thy wrong,

Bitter woe for thy name.

Bitter was it, O, to see

The sily sheep

Murder’d by the ravening wolves

While the shepherd did sleep.

Bitter was it, O, to view

The sacred vine,

Whilst the gardeners play’d all close,

Rooted up by swine.

Bitter, bitter, O, to behold

The grass to grow

Where the walls of Walsingham

So stately did show.

Such were the worth of Walsingham

While she did stand;

Such are the wrecks as now do show

Of that so holy land.

Level, level with the ground

The towers do lie,

Which with their golden glittering tops

Pierced out to the sky.

Where were gate no gates are now,--

The ways unknown

Where the press of friars did pass

While her fame far was blown.

Owls do shriek where the sweetest hymns

Lately were sung;

Toads and serpents hold their dens

Where the palmers did throng.

Weep, weep, O Walsingham

Whose days are nights—

Blessings turn’s to blasphemies,

Holy deeds to despites.

Sin is where our lady sate;

Heaven turn’d is to hell;

Satan sits where our Lord did sway—

Walsingham, O, Farewell.

(Philip puts down the scroll and just stares sadly at the audience for a moment. Lights out.)

Scene III (The famous wall painting in the local shop is main design. Thomas Sydney, the hounds and the hare).

Thomas Sydney: Ah, come on, people. You will have jobs with me. Look, I can put you back to work in some small shoe shops. I have bought the saffron fields. I need servants for the new hall I am going to build. Get over this hatred of the king and you will be thanking your lucky stars.

Mob of 1537 speaking one after the other, as unidentified groupies: Why should we go along with you. Henry ruined all our business. We have no customers. No palmers. No royalty…this is a disaster. You got what you want for 90 shillings. What do we get? Nuthin’ Latimer took the Lady and chopped her up. How do we know you won’t do the same to us?

Thomas Sydney: Fine, than you can take your wives, your sons and daughters and move elsewhere. I have friends who have men who want jobs. I can bring them here in a minute. Are you going to the king’s church? Let me read this from the Convocation of June, 1536. “..that our Lady, the blessed Virgin, was no better than another woman, and that she can prevail with our Saviour no more than another sinful person of her sex.”

Mob of 1537: Well, we are not theologians. We are just workers. How do we know what Mary is.  We cannot depend on religion to feed us. Sure, we get fined otherwise and only those rich nobles can afford to be recusants. What choices do we have? Hey, where is Lady Elizabeth Andrew’s ring and where is the golden cloth vestments of Lord Scales?  Where is the Countess of Warwick’s image? Who got these things? What happened to all the goods the Franciscans had from Elizabeth de Burgh, the Countess of Clare, in the Great Guest House. Where is all the wealth?

Thomas Sydney: Well, some made good choices and were rewarded with the offerings to idols, and some made bad choices and they are dead. Their quartered bodies lie in the ditch of the field beyond the walls. Their heads have been eaten by crows.

Mob of 1537: We don’t like what you did to the Eucharist. Dumped the Holy Bread on the ground. Stomped on it. Spit on it. Peed on it.

Thomas Sydney: Now, now, that was not me. Those were the soldiers of Thomas Cromwell, as you well know. They just got carried away a bit. Haven’t we all sinned?

Mob of 1537: Blasphemy will haunt this place for centuries. Sacrilege stalks the village. We feel it.

Thomas Sydney: Stop being superstitious fools. I think you better realize your own here and now. Take my offers or you and your families will starve. The tiger will eat you whether you are kind to it or not.

(Mob of 1537 individuals talk among themselves.)

Mob of 1537: We are not martyrs like Aysburrow or the others. Do we really have choices?

Thomas Sydney: Stop pretending there is a heaven or a hell. We only have the now.

Mob of 1537:  We shall take the jobs. We choose the now. Life is hell enough.

(Black out of scene.)

Act III

(Two young and beautiful women come to the fore, center stage, in the spotlight but they move to stage right when the second spot comes up. Their dresses are of a different time, as Anne died in 1630 and this Lady Throckmorton is from 1651-so change the costumes a little. They are sitting on a garden bench with the arch of the ruin behind them. Lady Throckmorton has a little white dog, like a Westie.)

Anne Dacre: Many of us went into hiding and then to France. Many more cooperated with the Parliament and saved their lands, but not their souls. Some benefitted by buying land cheaply to the cash-strapped king.

Lady Throckmorton of 1651:  My dear Jesuit priest wrote to me about the Office of the Blessed Virgin Mary.  I shall share with you, Dear Countess of Arundel, what he wrote to me.

Anne Dacre: And I shall share with you my vow.

Lady Throckmorton: Good, we Catholics must support each other in these terrible days.

Father Edward Worseley writes: (and a Moving Tableau appears with the Jesuit, Fr. Worseley reading this note out of a book he is writing with a quill pen.

I made choice to compare this work in honour of the most Blessed Virgin, Mother of God, whos Dowry our own now distracted country was sometimes not undeservedly stiled. Both in respect of the peculiar devotion our religious predecessors, above other nations of the Christian world, ore towards her, and her reciprocal procuring, by her powerful intercession, innumerable select favours for them.

Anne Dacre: And I have made a long vow, dedicating my life and belief to the Immaculate Conception. Here is part of my written note.

Lady Throckmorton: Yes, dear, let me hear it.

Anne Dacre: It is very long. I keep it at the castle. I shall read part of it.

…I, Anne, following the steps and examples of many most learned, virtuous and holy person, in this sacred place, and on this cheerful and happy day of the festivity of thy Conception, do confess thee, O Mother of God, to have been preserved from original sin in the first instant of thy Conception, through the merits of Christ, the Son of God and thee, foreseen from all eternity. And I take God thy Son and thy self to witness that I will constantly, by His grace, retain even to the last moment of my life this judgment of they preservation from original sin. This I promise, this I vow, this I swear, so help me God and His holy saints, --always understood with due submission to the determination of Holy Church and the chief pastor thereof, His Holiness of Rome…

There is much more. I love the Immaculate Conception, Our Lady of Walsingham. I pray at the end of this piece for purity of mind and hatred of all sin.

Lady Throckmorton: That is lovely and profound. And, in a letter of St. Omer’s to the English Poor Clares at Graveling, in 1665, is this sad, sad note:

That land, once bearing title of the Dowry of the Virgin Mother, heretofore holy and fruitful in this land, but now, alas, overrun with heresy and sin.”

But, Anne, where are the saints now? We need holy men and women again, dear Anne. Dooks, come here. We are the Church Militant in this evil age. We need more purity of mind, purity of heart and soul.

(Behind them in a spotlight are the Walsingham martyrs, both lay and friars, as well as Philip Howard.)

Anne Dacre: But, gone before us, are the great martyrs of Walsingham and those of Tyburn, and those of the Tower, like my dear husband. They intercede for us daily, I am sure. Tyburn to Walsingham, they stand in a long chain from there to heaven, asking God to strengthen us in these times.

Lady Throckmorton: But, what will the generations after us believe? Will they know Our Lady of Walsingham? Will they love her? Will the one, true, holy and Catholic Church return to Walsingham? I fear for the long years to come, dear Countess. Those good martyrs, like Christ, were taken outside the town walls, at Tyburn, in Walsingham, like anathemata. Will the outcasts be remembered, like Christ on our burnt altars?

Anne Dacre: Let us pray, dear one.

(They bow their heads and all the 2013 people of Walsingham appear, old and young, going to the arch of the priory and praying all together the Hail Mary. Lights down after coming up very bright).

Scene Two (Spotlight on one man, who has keys in his right hand. He has a strong Norfolk accent. Make sure this is said slowly and deliberating, not rushed.)

Burton, Turnkey at the Bridewell 1797: Well, did you think that was the very end? It is not the end

.

I, Turnkey Burton of the Bridewell, can tell you that the history of Walsingham is not over yet. No, it is not. But, who knows where this story will end or how, I don’t know. Look around you, look at yourselves. Will there be a Walsingham when you are old and grey? Will there be Catholicism in this land? Maybe not. There was a long time without Catholics here, I can tell you, a long time. Now, myself, I was not a Catholic, at least not one that anyone knew about, anyway. I kept an Agnus Dei under my pillow, like many good Anglicans. But, I can tell you that when Mary, Our Mother, was loved and honoured here, things were different.

I cannot put my finger on it. I cannot say what the difference was, exactly. Maybe the roses bloomed the same and the owls hooted just as loudly all night, keeping us locals awake, maybe people were kinder, gentler, more loving, more true…

Something was different. A life, a spirit of motherliness, of care wafted in the air like the chant of the friars. We were the dowry of Mary, and maybe, maybe we still are….maybe we still are…The story has not ended, yet.

(He walks off jingling his keys, out of the spotlight. One hears the hoot of the barn owl in the distance and the arch of the Priory remains lit for a few minutes.)

The End.