(Sting-Fiction inspired by the character of "Martin" from the film "Brimstone & Treacle"--this is a kind of prequel.)
---PART TWO---
Martin's plan was to draw Sarah away from the church; thus, to take her away from the safe environment in which she had become accustomed. He leaned against the bookcase. His expression seeming to be that of a clever killer, or worse. Sarah could not imagine how Martin could have become such a different person. In the year that he had been gone, Martin had changed. As a priest, he had escaped the growing evil side to his personality, but the mission thrust this part of himself full out, to be expressed openly, and to never again be denied. Sarah could see that he must have been responsible for many crimes during his time away, possibly even responsible for someone's death. This explained how Martin could easily resemble a killer, but he was smiling the same peculiarly persuasive smile that she had first seen, many days ago, when he had appeared below the tower window.
In Sarah's observance, there was something intriguing and yet unnerving about Martin. She wanted him to return to the cathedral with her, for she had an unexplainable feeling that something would harm her if she remained in that house. She knew that evil, something at least, would affect her, such as the possibility that Martin would affect her as he had a year earlier.
Martin met her eyes with his as a feeling of shame heated her cheeks, which caused his eyes to flicker.
"Why must he persist?" She wondered to herself as he took a few steps toward her and she stood up quickly. Her nerves caused her to tremble slightly as he placed his palms down on the desktop. Despite the entirely changed expression in his eyes, Sarah could barely hide the fact that she still loved him; but she did not know if she could cope with the changes since the early days of holding hands while on secret walks together in the garden court. She wondered how, after all of her teachings, she could have succumbed to her feelings that one night that changed their innocent love to evil, and guilty obsession.
"Sarah," Martin said as he leaned further forward and she fully realized that he would no longer be cautious, nor resist temptation.
"I must be leaving now," Sarah said quickly, but she could not turn her eyes away from Martin's stare.
"Why?" He asked innocently as if there could be no reason. "You only arrived." He paused, then stepped behind the desk and gently took her by an arm and urged her to sit down on the sofa. "There are so many things I have to tell you about my year away."
"Then you will return to the mission?" She presumed hopefully as she sat down.
"No," Martin replied without regret, "I could never return to such a meaningless life."
"Meaningless, I am afraid that I do not understand Martin. You are supposed to know now the true meaning of your ways."
"Sarah," Martin said softly as he knelt down onto his knees in front of her. "They may teach you nothing more, for you know all that is known to them, but there are still lessons for me to teach you."
After a moment of gazing into his soothing eyes, Sarah reluctantly looked away and stood, realizing that she should depart before it was too late. But Martin placed his hands down on her shoulders.
"Instead of leaving," he said smiling, "you may stay here... with me."
Sarah only half heard his words, and avoided his eyes, as she left him for the door.
"I see no reason why you should remain tied and bound to the service of your Mother Superior." Martin said to her in a raised voice that was not a fierce yell, but more of a plea.
As she reached for the doorknob, she stopped and turned around to look at him with tears in her eyes. She thought about how much the Mother Superior advised her about, and protected her from, the awful outside world.
"She shelters you from the goodness of the world," Martin said as he slowly stepped into the foyer. "To truly love is not sinful... only natural."
Sarah did not move as Martin stood before her and took her delicate face in his hands. His eyes were smiling as he placed a gentle kiss upon her quivering lips; and she responded, blocking her superior's lectures of sin from her thoughts as only Martin occupied them. She felt as if she were in a dream, and closed her eyes. When she opened them again, Martin's arms were around her and he was leading her up the staircase, whispering something in her ear that she could not decipher. Also, she felt as if there were eyes all around them, watching.
At the top of the stairs, they turned down a short hallway and she no longer felt as lightheaded as Martin led her into a small bedroom. This bedroom, such as the rest of the house, was furnished in a Victorian fashion, and the walls were papered in a dark peach, which caused the room to be darker even though the afternoon sun shined in through the half open shade. Sarah felt his arms slip around her waste once more as she remembered the first time they had kissed each other in the garden court, and the only time they had made love. Only this time, she was not certain that he truly loved her.
Martin noticed her reluctance and seemed to be amused by it as he held her closer, and as he began to move the dress down her shoulders, she could not help but surrender to that familiar and all consuming desire. Again, she was beginning to feel as if she were in a dream state, or overcome by a feeling of well being that seemed to send away all doubts.
The grandfather clock down in the parlor struck four, and suddenly Sarah opened her eyes. She had fallen into a light sleep and now the afternoon sun had dimmed the room nearly to darkness. She sat up against the headboard of the double bed and was somewhat startled to find her dress lying at the foot as she pulled the sheet up over her chest. She glanced beside her and, as she expected, Martin had left her alone. Thus, she threw back the sheet and immediately pulled on her dress. She wondered where Martin could have gone as she heard strange noises pervading from the attic directly above her, along with hideous bursts of laughter and very pitiful sounds of weeping. These sounds brought out her curiosity, and though she was anxious about wondering through the house alone, she opened the door to the empty hallway with full intention of searching the attic for Martin.
The noises were growing louder as she ascended the small, winding staircase that would lead her up to a trap door. As she pushed the door open and it fell back with a thud, she wondered what or whom she would find.
The attic was a long passageway with many dark shadows, and barriers, that seemed to represent rooms or private hiding places, were put up on the sides. There were many windows, but they were covered with several layers of dust as if to purposely keep out the sunlight. The feeling that she was being watched, which she had when Martin brought her upstairs earlier, again came over her as she thought of returning to his small, but safe, room. But as she looked back at the trap door, it was closed and the latch was fastened. The sound of a faint whimper took her attention as she instantly turned around to face the other end of the attic; and slowly, she began to follow the sound as she walked past the first barrier and peered inside to find no one. But as she reached the second barrier, the whimpering stopped, and she stood there unable to move. After a moment of silence, the whimpering began once more and she approached the second barrier again. When suddenly, a man's arm reached out and grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her down to the floor.
"Albert!" Sarah gasped as she saw his hollowed face.
"Oh, I am sorry," Albert said and immediately laid his head down on her lap. "Promise me you will stay here for a while. I am so alone."
"But Albert... why did you not tell anyone that you had returned?" She asked in a voice that was unusually loud for her.
"Because he is mad," Martin announced as he appeared, from out of nowhere, at another entrance other than the trap door. He was standing with his arms crossed and staring wide-eyed at them, like an animal eyeing his prey.
"I cannot make such a promise to you Albert, but I will get you anything you may need." Sarah said to Albert, but actually her attention could not stray from Martin. For a moment, their eyes were locked together as if they were in a trance. Then, Martin abruptly turned away from her, and a gaunt Albert, to leave. Though while closing the door in front of him, he was still keeping a watchful eye on them.
Though Sarah was a bit shaken by Martin's abrupt appearance, Albert could not have cared any less as he still lie on his side with his head on Sarah's lap. He appeared to be asleep; but as she stroked his hair and watched his reckless breathing with pity, he opened his eyes slightly.
Martin returned to his small room and sat down in front of the dresser mirror. He stared hard at his reflection, and the unusual amusement his eyes expressed, amusement that not quite matched his placid lips. "Albert will never leave this house," he said out loud.
"I agree," said a little voice from behind him.
"Return to the attic Lester... and calm the others," Martin said in a tone meant to sound superior.
"But they have not been stirred." Lester insisted as he stood on the foot of the bed staring at him curiously.
"Soon Lester... they will be stirred." Martin whispered as he kept staring, unmoving, into the mirror.
Lester began to laugh as he jumped down from the foot of the bed and ran out of the room.
Sarah could feel that there was something terribly wrong with Albert as he lay there shivering in her arms.
"It is my head," he whispered.
"What is wrong with your head?" She asked, noticeably baffled, and felt her skirt dampen with his tears.
"I am truly mad," he whimpered louder.
"No," she insisted immediately, "you will leave here with me. I know the bishop will accept your."
He listened to her for a moment silently, then turned over and stared into her face. "What about the evil Martin?" He asked as his sadness and self-pity was replaced with fear.
"Martin no longer belongs with us Albert," Sarah said as she gazed around worried, but when she looked down at Albert, she noticed he had fallen asleep again. His eyes were darting back and forth under his lids, which told her he was dreaming as he also kept uttering words under his breath sporadically. These words were muddled and unclear, but their meaning stood out. He was asking for forgiveness.
"Please... I must stay," he pleaded. "I am safe here." Then he awoke suddenly with a violent twitch and sat up quickly. "I am never going to leave," he yelled. "I must be safe." He was staring into Sarah's sorrowful face with a look of complete horror in his eyes.
This could not be a fear of God, she knew, or even a fear of Martin the apostle, but a fear of something more evil--Lucifer, the devil beyond all devils.
"Albert," Sarah whispered as she still stared into his distorted face.
"No... I cannot," he told her as tears streamed down his face. Then he scrambled to his feet and ran away down the attic as she looked after him, until he disappeared behind a far barrier. Her feeling was now the same for him as for Martin; and she could not help but feel that she had failed Albert just then, and should cry out loud for it. Neither of them would return to the solace of the church, or the faith that once protected their souls.
She looked down to the place where Albert had gone, hoping to see him, but she saw no one. When suddenly a lanky man peered out from behind the barrier beside her and she screamed out. Thus, she wasted not a moment in getting to her feet and ran over to the door where Martin had appeared earlier. To her relief, it was unlocked and she followed the narrow stairs down to the top landing of the foyer stairs.
All was quiet as she approached Martin's room and stood in the doorway for a moment realizing that once again she had missed him. Too weary to continue searching any longer though, she stepped inside just as the sound of screaming echoed down from the attic. She tried to block out the noise by covering her ears, but that was impossible, since it seemed that all of the attic residents were screaming at their loudest during the same moment. But as she turned to leave, the noise stopped all of a sudden and Martin stood before her eyes in the doorway holding a clump of black hair down at this side and slowly sifting it through his fingers.
"Do you understand how lonely I have been?" He asked her and appeared to be quite sad. But for some reason, Sarah could not bring herself to feel pity for him, only try to conceal her longing to comfort him as she stood before him with tears glistening in her eyes.
"I understand; the loneliness that I felt when you were away was difficult to bear." She whispered as she was staring into his eyes intensely.
As quickly as the sadness had appeared on Martin's face, a strangely firm expression developed as he listened to her reply. Then promptly, his position became one of amusement, but not what would be considered as a usual amusement. His mood was now indefinable as both his eyes and lips were smiling, but the latter seemed cold.
"You are a hypocrite, such as your superior," he told her strictly.
"I do not understand what you mean," she replied bewildered as he placed his hands around her waist.
"Oh yes, you do know my meaning," he whispered. "You swear that your love is mine alone...." He pulled her forcefully against him as the tone of his voice rose. "And yet," he paused and seemed to stare deeper into her eyes, "you pray to remain safe within God's mercy!"
Tears streamed down Sarah's face as she sunk to her knees, while Martin stared down at her arrogantly and with the assurance that, unlike her, he could survive without guidance from God or even the all-hideous Devil.
He reached down to touch her face, but she backed away quickly and stood staring back at him with a fear in her eyes. Then, as Martin took a step toward her, she hurried past him, down the foyer stairs and out of the house to look back only once. As she stepped off the front porch, she turned around and saw Martin looking down at her from his bedroom window. But she only saw his figure for a brief moment before he turned away and swiftly closed the curtain. Thus, she was on the verge of crying as she began running away down the lane toward the cathedral precincts.
Meanwhile, Martin was feeling her distress and welcoming the unhappy feeling as he returned to the parlor. Just inside the doorway, he noticed Sarah's cloak, where she had left it, draped over a chair. And he gathered it into his arms and began to pace back and forth across the room. All the while, he was moving the collar through his fingers, and his eyes stared from side to side as if he were apprehensive of the near future.
The front cathedral doors flew open wide as Sarah burst in and hurried to the main hall. She stopped when she reached the closed doors though, to gather her self-control, and then entered with her head down. The bishop was kneeling at the altar and she proceeded to kneel down beside him. But before she could take another step, she fell down on her knees behind him.
The Bishop looked back over his shoulder and immediately an arm around her. "My child," he gasped in concern.
"Oh father," Sarah began to reply as the tears streamed down her face. "I must leave here, for I am no longer worthy to remain. I have betrayed you...and myself."
The Bishop urged her to sit down on the nearby bench. "No Sarah, understand," he said as he lifted her face and wiped away a few large tears, "that you have now realized your wrong doings, and will be able to improve upon your loyalty." He paused as Sarah realized that his words sounded very similar to the Mother Superior's words on the day after Martin departed on his Mission; and thus, these words seemed to be equally as false.
He stood and approached the crucifix. "It was known to me that fate, and your simple curiosity, would draw you again to Martin. And that you would be required, by nature, to decide..." He paused again as this time he turned to face her directly, and she answered his unspoken question.
"Martin cannot return to us...of that I am certain. He is no longer a servant of God, but a slave to another." Her tears had lessened somewhat as she gazed down at her trembling hands. "He is a slave to his "own" master." Suddenly hysteria rose in her voice as she stood. "Martin is faithful to no one!" And she gripped her face in anguish, finally realizing that she had lost him, and feared that she had not truly stirred his heart at all. Still, she did not doubt that Martin felt concern for her welfare; and she also knew that he was not trying to hurt her by calling her a hypocrite, only make her choose between loyalty to God's service, or that doubtful love for him.
As the Bishop's eyes wondered over her face, he felt distressed. "I beg you my child, to take time in making your choice." He paused as she stood before him. "Think of how much you have grown in the past year."
* * * *
The housekeeper returned to the house a few hours later. As she walked in, she happened to glance just inside the doorway to the parlor, and found Sarah's cloak draped over the chair where she had left it. The housekeeper became very angry and directed her stare up the stairs. Then, she violently slammed the door. Her face was puffed and red with jealousy. She knew that Sarah has stayed upstairs in Martin's room.
But upstairs, Martin stood by his door with arms crossed, smiling, and on the verge of uncontrollable laughter. In Sarah's hurry, she had left her incriminating cloak behind and he had not tried to stop her, or conceal the cloak, for if he had, she might have stayed. He could not have risked a confrontation between Sarah and his horribly jealous housekeeper.
* * * *
Sarah believed, as always, in the Bishop's sincere advice. And most of the night she spent awake, searching through her thoughts and feelings as she prayed for insight and for assurance to make the proper choice. "Must I choose between God and Martin?" She asked herself as she wondered if the choice were really between Heaven and Hell. She considered those questions, then dismissed the latter. No one could be certain that Martin would be so evil as to be bound to burn forever. There was a possibility that his ways could often be violent and cruel, good intentions seemed to always surface in the end.
At that same late hour, Martin remained awake in his small bedroom. But for only the tall candles on the sides of the mirror, the room was completely dark; and nothing beyond the confines of the dresser was visible. Martin was sitting there at the dresser, glancing upon his reflection as the candles' light played strange and spiteful games upon his face as they flickered. Mindlessly, he moved a hand over the thick golden cross that was lying in front of him. This was the same cross he had seen the bishop holding many times before, always holding it closely to his heart.
Martin grasped the cross in his hands and gently held it before his own heart. Then he closed his eyes for a moment as if to feel the power of the holy relic that was, for him, the ultimate symbol of faith. When he opened his eyes again, he stared deeply into the mirror and gripped the cross tightly.
During that same moment, in the cathedral, a short distance from Martin's realm, Sarah had left her room for the cathedral hall and was kneeling before the altar with her hands gripped tightly together and her eyes closed. In prayer, she always hoped for forgiveness and total acceptance. Beside her, the bishop was watching with hopeful eyes, quiet enough not to disturb her. He knew, at that moment, the Holy Spirit filled her soul, but not her restless heart, for there would remain one mortal man to interfere.
Martin continued to hold the golden cross tightly with both hands; and closed his eyes once more as he pressed it firmly to his chest. A contented sigh slowly escaped from deep within his body, as his entire person seemed to adjure, willingly, to the purity and goodness of the heavens. The bishop's cross was to be the symbol by which Martin would receive his lost faith. But this contentment, or feeling of redemption, was at that same moment, to cause the bishop pain.
And in the cathedral hall, the bishop suddenly placed his hands to his chest. "Ohhh...!" he gasped as he fell to his knees.
Sarah looked back and hurried to his side. "What has happened?" She asked as concern quickened her words. The bishop's eyes drooped as he looked up at her.
His face was quizzical, and his speech was strained. "Pain... fills... my old heart," he whispered.
Then as suddenly as the pain began, it subsided, and the bishop let go his hand from his chest. Martin had taken the holy cross away from his own heart, and replaced it upon the dresser; thus, he had broken the strange bond between himself and the bishop. Martin moved his fingers along the cross as the expression on his face suddenly changed from serenity to contempt.
* * * *
The following morning, first thing, Sarah confronted the Mother Superior in the garden court, for her elder wished to know where she had spent most of the day before, and why she had returned so hastily many hours later. Sarah told her that she had gone to visit Martin.
"Ah, So you know where he is staying then. Since he has returned, I have not seen him; tell me about his appearance." Her superior inquired further, but Sarah gave not reply on the subject, but merely drew attention to the poor people hiding in the attic of the old house. She made slight mention of the housekeeper, only to emphasize that the creatures were tormented by her, and made no other mention of Martin.
"You know Martin will never finish his term here, nor ever become a priest or a decent man," the Mother Superior began to lecture. "He is consumed with evil, and not even your goodness can change him." She paused and breathed in heavily as her eyelids drooped and her head flew back. "Now, I will ask you once more, will you forget Martin?"
"You may ask, but I have no certain answer to give you, for I cannot promise you and then betray that promise." At that Sarah left the side of her superior and returned inside, but remained in the doorway for a moment and looked back. "I do not understand why blame was not cast upon myself as well as Martin, for we were both guilty on that night."
"Yes, but you were seduced by Martin." Her voice suddenly became more irritable and hoarse. "He was the instigator of the sinful act. On the other hand, you were here so that your innocence could be protected, and if any blame were placed upon you, then the Bishop might have had you punished."
"You were protecting me?" Sarah asked in complete surprise.
"I was giving you another chance, a chance which you have obviously relinquished."
"What are you saying?" Sarah asked though she knew the answer.
"Your visit with Martin is my focus." She said and met Sarah in the doorway. "And from now on, until you have assured me that you have placed your affair with Martin in the past, you will not leave the monastery."
"But what of my duties? I have so many responsibilities here."
"Then you will be able to come here only when you are needed." The Mother Superior said as she walked away from her. She stopped after a few steps, but did not turn around. "If Martin arrives when you are here, you will leave...immediately. Oh yes, and Sarah, I understand your desire to help those misfortunate persons in that house, but I do not understand your desire to help Martin, how he is able to blind you from your better judgment." With that final word she left Sarah alone to think over what she had told her.
That night, the Mother Superior did not sleep well, and awoke with a headache after only a few hours that stemmed from continuous nightmares. In one of those nightmares, all of her worst fears were brought out at once which had never before happened to her. Though she recalled, on the eve of Martin's departure, that the same thing had happened to the Bishop. He had run into the cathedral hall and thrown himself down in front of the altar. Fear had gripped him as he swore that evil was among them. She could feel a disturbance in the tranquillity of the night; and strangely enough, her first thought was of Martin.
During this late hour, the Mother Superior was not the only one who did not sleep. Suddenly, the huge grandfather clock downstairs in the parlor of the old house struck twelve thirty. Martin stood in his room staring into the tall dresser mirror as if he could see beyond himself to something else staring back at him. Lester, the smallest of the attic vermin, sat behind him crookedly smiling behind his back. He was a dwarf who had once lived as a monk, to Martin's disbelief. And had followed Martin everywhere since his arrival, even to the outskirts of the cathedral where he had hid in the shadows. Lester trusted Martin most of all, as if he were somewhat of a savior to them.
Martin drew his eyes away from the mirror and looked down at his wrist. He watched the blood slowly trickle down his arm, and took his other hand to smear some of it onto his fingers. Slowly, he spread the blood across the mirror, forming a strange Latin word.
Lester had been watching intensely and, on sight of the word, leapt from his chair and ran out of the room. He would tell of this to the others in the attic.
| |
Part Three