"Fire & Brimstone"

(Sting-Fiction inspired by the character of "Martin" from the film "Brimstone & Treacle"--this is a kind of prequel.) ---PART ONE---

The tower bell rang as Martin, who was tall but frail in appearance, stood behind the bishop gazing out of the open window as suddenly a burst of autumn wind blew the stained glass panel shut. Though his outward expression was solemn, Martin was smiling to himself inside as could be noticed by the brightness in his eyes. While the others were appalled at the interruption, he found this small incident to be amusing. Albert, his peer, appeared to be the contrary with tired, slightly sunken eyes, and far too fair skin as he knelt down in front of the bishop. The time had come for Albert to seek fulfillment and complete unity by going on a pilgrimage, or as it is called here, the "holy mission." It was time for him to depart from the church, and until a year had passed, release all of the great evils and anxieties in his soul. Albert had accepted this part of his destiny, and was determined that he would prove himself worthy to become the bishop's best pupil. Martin watched Albert express his sadness at the thought of leaving and seemed not to understand his feelings. He thought him a fool, for he secretly did not believe in this mission of redemption and forgiveness for all sin. The bishop touched Albert on the shoulder, which brought him to his feet. And as he looked upon Martin, sadness wreaked from his eyes. Martin did not return his look of concern, instead he watched the bishop as he spoke directly to Albert. Martin wondered how the bishop, once a priest himself, had escaped this esoteric mission. As if he knew of Martin's inquiring thoughts, the bishop looked over to him and suggested they pray for Albert's safe return. * * * * Sarah was in the garden court tending to the flowers and plants as Martin entered from across the way. He watched as she gently trimmed the dead portions and watered the living with ease, and felt content to approach her. "Sarah," he said sincerely, but she turned around as though she were startled. "Forgive me if I have disturbed you." "Oh... no. I was merely restoring the beauty to the garden." Sarah replied looking away and started to walk on through the lush greenery. "I could not help but notice the results of your work. This is quite lovely; are you the only one who tends to this place?" "Mostly," she replied still quite shy as she plucked a few flowers, "the others have their duties. Mine have only been extended." She looked away again and accidentally knocked a pair of shears off the short wall. Martin bent down to retrieve them at the very moment when she knelt down. Their eyes met briefly, then she looked away and stood to leave, but Martin urged her to walk along the paths with him by taking a gentle hold of her arm. "Since I will be remaining in service here, I will want to see you more often.... There is so much I would like to tell you." She turned around slowly and looked him in the eyes, seeming to have gained a bit of confidence. "...But you hardly know me." "That is why I want to talk with you." Martin moved closer beside her and placed an arm inside her free one, and took the hand inside both of his hands. "I have been told that you are having trouble conforming... or perhaps you need someone to talk with and to ease your loneliness." At first, Sarah could not say anything as they stood together starring into each other's eyes, but Martin seemed to ease her shyness. "Why would you want to spend your time with me... and not with someone more in need and deserving of your compassion?" "Because I am here with you now, and I know that I can help you." Martin said benevolently. "Honestly... when I am needed by someone, I have no more concern for anyone else, not even myself." The Mother Superior spoke with Martin shortly after his first arrival at the cathedral. "Do not fret over Sarah, Martin. She reacts in that manner toward every man she encounters, every one, with the only exception being the bishop, of course. * * * * It was a joyous Easter morning and in the cathedral all sang, except Sarah, who chose to merely feel the harmony. She looked up as Martin sang out above the rest-the song Gabriel's Message. His voice could be heard above all of the others as it's tone seemed to be piercing the air. As the others listening in silence, Sarah was feeling a certain closeness to Martin. A time later, in the afternoon, rain had begun to fall and spoiled the goodness of the day. Sarah, the youngest resident of the nearby monastery, was in the cathedral hall watching silently the rain water slowly drip down the stained glass form of Christ. After feeling a chill from the outside, she closed the front robe of her habit tighter around herself as the bishop entered the hall. Martin followed close behind him, as would a loyal servant, and smiled at Sarah as he knelt down beside her at the altar. The bishop stepped up and stood above them, while Albert stood suspiciously in the shadows by the huge entrance doors. A stream of nuns, young and old, made their way past him briskly to the front of the cathedral hall and Albert followed them to the altar where he knelt down on the other side of Sarah. He gave Martin a suspicious look, though he did not actually know why. After the homily, Martin and Sarah walked out together into the garden court. When they reached the center, Martin gently grasped her soft hands in his and placed a tender kiss upon one, then he held it against his cheek. "I cannot tell you how helpful you have been to me." Sarah said as her eyes smiled warmly, but her lips only quivered. She seemed to want to tell him something, but preferred to sound innocent as if his gesture were that of mere affection, and not a yearning desire for someone he should never want. Albert left the cathedral the following morning, dressed in casual clothes. He was to be gone for a year, which was to be the extent of his time away. His face still showed his distress as he turned to look one last time upon the old cathedral. Sarah watched him as he walked down a block then waved a cab and was gone. It was a particular evening, roughly half of a year after Albert departed on the mission, and Sarah sought to find the bishop, but unknown to her, he had returned to his former parish in Gladstone. The Mother Superior "never" left the confines of the cathedral precincts and promised the bishop to watch over Sarah who was her best pupil. Sarah found Martin instead in the huge library, where she told him of her problem and he replied that he would find a perfect solution. The idea was to cleans her body and soul in the most spiritual sense at first, but then something came over him as he pushed back the hood of her habit so that it fell down to her shoulders. Instantly astonished, though without real surprise, he stared at her hair that hung long and spread over her breasts. "It is my sinful vanity," Sarah said and looked down at her hands lying in her lap. Martin shook his head slowly and put his hand underneath her chin to lift her face, until their eyes met again. "No, there is no need for you to feel ashamed," he whispered. Both began to express their desire for each other even though they knew well that it would be against the will of the church. The Mother Superior had seen Sarah enter the library and knew that Martin was studying there. "How convenient," the Mother Superior thought, "that his reverence is to be gone until tomorrow." She did not proceed to interfere, and did not enter the library; instead, she watched through the slightly opened door silently. The moment she knew that the two were beyond the point of changing their minds, she ran frantically down the hall to tell her tale to the bishop on his arrival. Early the next morning, it was the bishop who made the call and sent for Martin. When Martin arrived, the Mother Superior was not there with the bishop to protest. The sun had barely risen, and the morning sunshine sent many shades of bright colors through the stained glass in the huge cathedral hall. The bishop ushered Martin into a small room just inside the hall. There, in that small room, they discussed the situation. The bishop did not say the things that he knew; he was not straightforward with Martin, but his message was clear. Martin would be the one chosen for an indefinite period, or until Albert returned. And, of course, this meant he would have to be sent on the Holy Mission. Martin once thought himself privileged to be considered for such a mission, but now he realized that no one had ever returned after releasing his or her faith. His feelings were now of nothing but hatred as the bishop's feelings were that of sadness and pride. Martin kept his look of well being for him, but inside him was a gnawing feeling of contempt for his superior. Since the earliest hours of the morning, Sarah had been out of bed. As a nun, she was told that she was no longer attractive; she had no beauty, and no skill other than to serve God. This was not entirely true, though she was forced to believe it. In addition, she could not use material things on her person, such as cosmetics, perfumes, and jewelry, which would be obvious. Her hair would be cut short and covered at all times, though actually she did not cut her hair short, but kept its length covered at all times. And if she were not to wear her habit, she would have to wear a long black dress, for it was forbidden for her to think of herself at all, especially as a woman, but only as a servant of her faith. She prayed that only God would know about the lovemaking between herself and her peer, Martin, and that He would forgive them for not being fully loyal to him. Thus, she dressed with a feeling of warmth and yet disturbance as if she sensed that the truth was known to someone else. She then proceeded to the cathedral hall, in which she would find the bishop and make her confession. The Mother Superior called upon Sarah late that morning and reluctantly she met her at the small tribunal and quietly placed herself on the first row bench with her eyes lowered. The Mother Superior began to pace in front of her, scolding her. "Why did you enter the library last night when you knew that Martin would be there alone?" She paused and looked down at her harshly. Sarah looked up meekly at her superior, whose soft face seemed cruel in the very dim candlelight. "I did not know that Martin was in the library alone," she whispered. "Of course you did not my dear," the Mother Superior said placing one of her old hands on Sarah's shoulder. "Still Martin was waiting there for nearly two hours for you to come as you did often before retiring to your room." Sarah was still as she listened to her, while her expression was that of a hopelessly sorry young girl. "You know that you are to be devoted solely to your practices," the Mother Superior reminded her calmly. "Yes I do know," Sarah whispered. The Mother Superior walked away from her to stand in the doorway and smiled at her thoughtfully. "As you know, tomorrow, officially, Martin will no longer be here to tempt your sinful desires, or his own for that matter. When returns from the holiest of missions, he shall be different." She paused and smiled again thoughtfully. "All will be forgiven and forgotten. He will be a devoted priest, and all of those who doubted him, shall honor him as such." That night, screams echoed through the halls as the Bishop ran from his rooms to the cathedral hall, where he burst open the doors and threw himself down before the alter swearing that the Devil had tried to claim his soul while he slept. Martin had left the cathedral and proceeded to his room, where he took the things he though he would need, and by early the next morning, he was gone without another word to the bishop or anyone. This pleased the Mother Superior, for she felt that when he returned he would not be a sinner, or more definitely, a fallen priest. At least, that is what was said to occur, but not what had occurred in the past. Those who did return were never redeemed, for they were often insane, or never returned at all. It was a year later before anyone saw Martin again, and life had been as usual for Sarah, with the same every day chores and duties; but she could not forget about the feelings that had passed between them. Past memories often captured her thoughts as she wondered where Martin had gone, where he was taking shelter, and how he was feeling. Little did she know that Martin was feeling nothing. He was traveling to many places, villages and towns, never staying longer than a few days at each territory, for it was trouble that often drove him away from the quaint villages that crossed his uncertain path. This trouble was always stirred by Martin, or by the suspicions of those people around him. Sarah was one of the firsts to see Martin on his arrival at the cathedral. It was during the afternoon, on a less busy Saturday, that she to read hymns up in the tower with a few of the other nuns and her persistent Mother Superior. When her superior requested that the tower window's shutters be opened, Sarah obeyed her request and as sunshine spilled into the small, ancient room, she gazed down at the front yard and found Martin standing just outside the doors. His appearance was different, peculiar in some way, as if he were another person entirely. But it was his eyes that revealed him, for their expression had not changed, though his dirty blond hair was disheveled, and he was wearing a long, dark overcoat, he looked as if he were truly himself. And try as Sarah did, the picture of Martin as the bishop's pupil, was difficult for her to perceive. Martin returned her stare with a warm expression in his eyes that were stranger than ever before, and his smile was slight and could be considered sinful. This expression seemed to match the rest of his, not angular, yet distinctly shaped face completely. He said not a word as he looked down and entered the cathedral. As the other nuns scurried away to tell of Martin's return, Sarah still stood at the window. Only she had seen the true expression in his eyes, which the others had unconsciously dismissed, and only she would stand between Martin's deception and the truth. Martin proceeded through the long halls toward the main hall. But as he reached the tall doors, he was stopped by an elderly nun who apparently had known him, or thought she had. Martin played along with her as she spoke of being happy to see him safely returned. His lips curved into a slight smile as she kissed him on the cheek, then happily waddled down the other end of the hall. He watched her and turned his head to the side as if wondering, and then entered the hall, where the bishop stood at the altar staring at him without trying to hide his surprise. "Martin," the bishop proclaimed as they met in the center of the hall, "come let me look at you. For a moment, I did not recognize you, for a very brief moment that is." He placed his hands on the sides of Martin's shoulders and seemed to be searching for a reminisce of the old Martin in his eyes. This brief searching caused the bishop uneasiness though as he then looked away and led his pupil into a smaller room to the side. "You must tell me about your travels, the bishop said as he sat down behind the desk. "Where did you first visit?" "I was led to understand that I was not to speak of my exploits to anyone, that I was only to store them in my memory until the time when I feel the need to betray the trust of my superiors." Martin stated as he stood proudly and his eyes smiled back at the bishop triumphantly. At first the bishop could say nothing as he observed Martin's more serious expression. "Of course, you must understand that I am overwhelmed by you standing here before me exactly a year, to the day, from when you departed. There was fear that you would travel the way of Albert, and we would never see you again." "I understand, your Grace," Martin said, as his outer appearance seemed to glow. His secrets would remain intact as he had felt. "Then we have nothing more to discuss," the bishop said and smiled brilliantly. "You will return to your room and prepare yourself to resume your duties." Though the bishop was more than willing to receive Martin as his understudy once again, Martin no longer felt that acceptance as he calmly walked out of the main hall. But as he turned the first corner, he found himself at the entrance to the Hall of Bishops, as it had been called for nearly three hundred years. A feeling of contempt came over him strongly as he walked down the hall ad stared at the portraits of all of the former bishops who had presided there until their deaths. They hung like cobwebs on the milk white walls, and to Martin, seemed to coldly stare and ridicule their observers through their lifeless eyes. As Martin stood facing the empty wall space, where the portrait of his superior would be placed, Sarah appeared at the other end of the hall. "With no guilt or regret," he began to say solemnly, "for those who tried and failed to fill his place." Sarah knew he was referring to the bishop as he continued speaking as though she were not there. "What is such a position of high authority, that one must loose one's sanity or possibly one's life to God," he paused and sighed, "in the pursuit of ultimate sanctity." A smile glazed his face as he turned to look upon her with eyes overflowing with something beyond evil or just madness. "I thought that was the way of the Devil... to steal a person's soul while he is still alive." Sarah's response to his words was silence, for she was not shocked, but could sympathize with him. Martin stared at her for a moment, which caused her uneasiness, and then he hurried past her and ran through the halls as the church bells began to ring. But after he burst through the front doors, he stopped and looked back at the cathedral, just as the sound of the bells stopped. Then, as if nothing had been wrong, he began to walk casually down the cobblestone road toward the heart of the quiet town. Down the way from the cathedral precincts was a house kept by a woman who was known to be rather withdrawn from the other townspeople, and thought to be wicked as well. Martin wanted to be close to the cathedral, but did not want to be bothered by anyone; thus, he approached this house and banged on the door. "Wait a bloody minute!" The housekeeper yelled as she opened the door. "What do you... want?" She appeared to be surprised at the sight of a young man at her door. "Well then!" "I would like to stay here if it is no trouble for you... madam." He said eloquently and sounded like a true gentleman. "I heard that you were living alone in this rather large, old house." "I wish that I were living alone," she said more to herself than to him. "And yes it would be trouble for me!" She yelled and a disappointed and somewhat pitiful expression revealed itself on his face. "But if you could do me a favor, then you may stay here as long as you wish." "Anything," Martin said shoving his hands down into the pockets of his overcoat. But an odd feeling came over him as he realized that he should not have made such a declaration to a lonely, and very ugly, old housekeeper. "Come in then," she said with a crooked smile and a quick and harsh laugh. "I will tell you what you must do for me." Martin walked in and immediately began looking all around as he followed the housekeeper into the small parlor. He hesitated as she sat down on the expansive sofa and smiled at him. Bashfully, he returned the smile, though his feeling was more of curiosity than uneasiness. "Please... sit down. You have not mentioned your name." "My name is Martin, Martin Tyler," he replied smiling again. "That name seems appropriate for you." The woman said and leaned back against the sofa; but Martin remained standing either oblivious to her suggestions, or boldly ignoring them. "Anyway," she said noticeably irritated and leaned up suddenly as Martin only watched with a raised brow, "in my attic there are quite a few examples of this society's miscreants, and I want you to make them behave for me." "Of course I will," Martin replied more confident and assured than she had expected. And this time he was not smiling, and she had to laugh once uneasily. "Then I will take you to them." Martin followed her, back into the foyer, to the wide staircase but turned around as he remembered his bag was beside the door. Before he could reach the bag though, to his amazement, it was gone. The sound of childish laughter immediately turned his attention back to the staircase, where he saw, not a child, but a dwarf climbing up the stairs with his bag in hand. "Who is that little man?" Martin asked with an amusement in his eyes as the housekeeper began to follow the strange figure. "Lester, he is the worst of them all. Wherever I may be found, he is always nearby. The little beast!" "Do you feed him well?" Martin asked as she turned back to stare at him with scolding eyes, and he chuckled. Shortly after Martin became settled in his small room, and as he lye relaxed on the bed, a sound from above him captured his attention. Immediately he stole from his room, but when he turned the corner, someone jumped out of the shadows and pinned him against the wall. "Albert," Martin said with minimum surprise as he stared at the fear ridden and twisted look on Albert's face, and he knew what must have happened to him. And no one, especially Martin, had expected to see him again, since it had been over a year. He had never returned from the mission and, as in the past, no one seemed to care or try to remember those who did not return. The old nuns never remembered, even though they had seen many of their own leave for the unholy and purposely self-destructive mission. "You must help me!" Albert cried hysterically as he held tight to Martin's shoulders. "Only you know how I am feeling...." "Albert," Martin began slowly as though Albert was a child, "...I will help you, but first we will have to return to the attic, or our gracious hostess will become angry with you." Albert understood as Martin put an arm around him and ushered him forward. "If you help me, I will return with you and we may share the duties." He said as Martin nodded, but truly did not agree that Albert would return to his faith and regain his position, to follow in the footsteps of the bishop upon his death. The condition of Albert's mind was that of a childish coward who often quivered for hours, portraying calmness one moment and nervousness the next. It was going to take a lot of convincing on Martin's part to finally persuade Albert to trust him. A few days after he had left the cathedral, Martin sent a letter to Sarah requesting to see her at the old house. When she arrived there though, Martin was up stairs in the room that he occupied, standing beside the door with his arms crossed. He was listening as he bit his lower lip, and only his eyes moved slowly back and forth as he watched the door. He seemed to be expecting something to happen very soon. The housekeeper was becoming irritated as she told Sarah to wait in the parlor while she fetched Martin. "Martin!" She yelled up the stairs. "Come down dear one. You have a visitor." At the sound of her voice, Martin smiled but did not move; and a few minutes passed before he threw open the door and quietly approached the railing to listen to the housekeeper as she spoke to Sarah. "I don't believe Martin is interested in seeing you... so why not return to where you came and relieve me of the sight of you." Sarah did not reply as she stared out of the window, wishing that the housekeeper had not broken the silence. "Leave?" Martin asked as he seemed to appear from no where to stand in the parlor doorway. "Oh no, I could not be such a rude host, when it was my invitation that brought you here." "Oh please! I will not be witness to this rubbish any longer." The housekeeper said as she put on her coat and opened the front door wide. She gave a strange and angry stare toward the both of them though before she slammed the door behind her. Sarah wondered why the woman was angry, but Martin knew the reason and, in a sly manner, smiled knowingly at her. He knew that the housekeeper was jealous of her, and that knowledge gave him a peculiar satisfaction as he noticed that the dulled, black dress she wore, and the paleness of her skin could not detract from her natural loveliness. Part Two My Realm My Fiction