S&S10 - CONTINUED

Looking sceptically towards the sky - which continuously accumulated bubbly, grey clouds. His remark, however, went unnoticed by the furious young man.

‘And if they’re just stories,’ Eli continued, stopping abruptly in his tasks, looking down at him through his thick eyelashes - ‘why do the Elders insist on keeping my family here, huh?’

‘Ah, now I understand,’ the old man said, smiling in revelation.

‘So that was the problem, the boy! Am I to understand then that they’ve already called you to the Council?’

‘Yes, the great Council!’ The young man reacted, disgusted, looking back at him, more bewildered than angry. ‘Two old men around a wooden table, in The Vine, the shepherd’s smoky old hearth. Some Council….’ Eli grumbled angrily, ‘Nothing but a bunch of old men.’

‘Eli!’ The Prospector shouted, ‘I will caution you to carefully choose the words you’re about to say in front of me…’ Smiling insincerely, the old man continued.

‘Listen Eli… we’re not going to discuss this any further. You know it as well as I do, someone needs to carry on this tradition - no matter how little value has been placed upon it lately, and it is still our responsibility to maintain it. And your little Brave, without even realizing it, has anyway shown that he is already more than ready to take in this sacred event,’ the Prospector pedantically explained.

‘What do you mean?’ Eli asked, although he already knew the answer.

‘Oh, nothing malicious, rest assured. Just that, we’ve been watching the boy lately, and I must admit, we’ve been very impressed by his development.’

Eli looked at him curiously, his nerves ignited, smouldering within, and ready to burst.

‘Yes, yes, that’s right,’ the old man continued, circling around the cart, admiring with feigned interest its arrangement and design.

‘Brave is not like the other children around here,’ he said, ‘although we would never tell him that, of course.’

As if you would ever be honest with anyone, Eli thought, trying to control his fury, as he listened on.

‘Yes, yes, I think you must be very proud of him, Eli, such an obedient, well behaved boy… Do you know what I like most about him?’ he asked, looking intently at the young man.

‘He is just so different from the rest of them! My Lord…’ The Prospector dramatically gesticulated, ‘I look at him sometimes, and then I look at the other ones around here,’ he said disgustedly, ‘and I see him growing more and more apart from the rest, with each passing by. He is different, Eli - he has that special something that we look for in a Keeper, and you know it... He doesn’t seem to be going through this sickly rebellious phase that the teenagers in the village have started to adopt. They just follow blindly in each other’s footsteps - and they only seem to learn the rude and the nonsensical from these older ruffians around them… But Brave is not like that at all. And what a keen, sparkling gaze he has, Eli! Have you ever noticed?’

The young man was barely restraining himself and, at the same time, felt that no matter how angry he was, he couldn’t respond in any other way - no matter how much he wanted to do anything against the Prospector, something inside him was holding him back, and was firmly stopping him from reacting violently towards the infuriating old man.

‘You couldn’t even tell he’s just a 16 year old boy,’ said the old man, laughing maliciously, trying again to provoke him - yet, this time, and succeeding.

‘13!’ Eli burst out, suddenly thrusting his hands straight into the old man’s collar. ‘Brave is only 13...years old!’ he whispered nervously through snarling teeth, as he shook him desperately. Then he let him go, trying his utmost to restrain himself from going too far.

‘13 years old…’ the old man nodded, ‘Well, how about that?’ he continued, calmly fixing his crumpled collar and vest. ‘All the more surprising,’ he continued, impressed. ‘Ah, and what do you know? Here’s the bright young knight himself, coming towards us, we were just talking about him, Ha Ha Ha, and how are you doing there, young man? Helping out your dad, I see?’

Brave was slowly approaching on the dirt path, coming towards them from the house. He appeared beside them now with a large wooden box in his arms, which he was clearly struggling to handle.

‘Good afternoon!’ He greeted the old man, then looked confusedly at Eli.

‘Here dad, I brought this one too.’

‘Just leave it there, on the ground. Is there anything else in the house?’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘Alright. Call the girls and let’s go, or we’ll be caught by nightfall on the road.’

Brave nodded and ran back towards the house, skipping energetically upon the beaten path. The Prospector approached Eli again, slowly, and gently grabbed his arm. His soft, elderly touch terribly repulsed him - it was like touching death itself. Then, the old man whispered disgracefully into his ear.

‘I watched him all day today, Eli…if you had only seen him! How devotedly he participated in the Cleansing rituals. How he arranged there, with his own little hands, the mounds of garlic and distributed the incense and candles to the women, how they then scattered them together throughout the Church’s garden… and the cemetery. He’s one of us, Eli - whether you like it or not. And he’s ready! Just - let him stay!’

‘After all,’ he continued, suddenly moving away from the young man’s face with a malevolent grin that suddenly eclipsed all features of his face, ‘you weren’t much older than him when you first participated in the Gathering - Remember?’

He did remember. That’s why he was so convinced that he wouldn’t want his son to relive those moments, as well, to commit the same mistakes and live the same isolated life as he did, driven by a senseless purpose. A life full of restrictions, devoid of achievements, or fulfilment. A life that perhaps wasn’t even worth living, in such a restrictive context.

‘It’s not the same… Times were different then,’ the young man said, half - voiced. ‘The world has changed, old man, can’t you feel it? It’s not like back then anymore. People have changed…’

‘And anyway,’ the Prospector continued, ignoring him completely, ‘you know very well that it is not your decision to make.’ He then smiled firmly and calmly, aware at the same time that no other repercussions would affect him in any way.

‘The Elders have the final say here.’ he said, ‘and you know this very well. You oppose, and you might as well dig your own grave now - for you and for your family. And if you console yourself with the naïve idea that you will ever escape from here… remember that the curse of the Land will always follow you, wherever you go. Eli. You come from a proud lineage of Keepers - You are eternally bound to these lands. You have a duty to fulfil here. And, then again, what will you even do, if you leave here? Where will you go? Think carefully upon my words, boy,’ he told him seriously, even threateningly. ‘Because here we PRESERVE and RESPECT traditions…. And your little son there seems to understand this even better than you do,’ he then added, with gratuitous malice.

‘How dare you threaten me, you weasel!’ Eli uttered through clenched teeth, more disgusted than he was angry. But the old man was not impressed by his bouts of anger or resentments.

‘The one good thing that you ever did in your life, Eli, was to stay and raise your children here, in the Land, not like your coward of a Father, who ran away with the first opportunity that fell into his sleazy lap!’

Eli barely restrained himself from striking the old man down, once and for all, following this remark. Although he felt now, finally, capable of doing it - after all the abuse he endured that morning, yet being perfectly aware at the same time that nothing good would come out of it.

Something broke in Eli at that moment. All the attachment, respect, and loyalty he had ever felt for his former teacher and homeland had vanished instantly, at that very same moment.

Then he heard the children coming towards him from the house, and this was perhaps the only reason he didn’t react violently but chose to be patient. To carefully plan his next steps, finally determined to change something in the toxic environment of the village he had always wished to protect, but which had been visibly suffering for years under the tyranny of the Council and the Prospector.

The old man continued to twist the knife in the wound:

‘Do not repeat the same mistakes that brought shame upon your family, Eli. Once, the Jiani’s were the most respected clan of Keepers of this place - and everything fell apart with your father. It disgusts me to think how he abandoned you all here … You, your poor mother, and all your cousins and brothers… - Lord rest their souls!’

He looked back and saw Eli’s family approaching.

‘What beautiful children…’ he continued. ‘If you don’t care about yourself and the honour of your heritage, then think at least of their safety. We may depart from this world, one way or another - but they remain behind … Remember this, always!’

And with that last metaphorical slap across the young man’s face, the Prospector turned back and started heading towards the open gate of the yard. He walked out, onto the road, and greeted the passers - bys respectfully, with his head held high. He was almost happy now, satisfied with what he was convinced he had accomplished. Then he pulled one of his lackeys, waiting by the gate, closer to him and said,

‘Keep an eye on them. If they try to leave the village, you know what to do.’

‘Understood,’ the man said, submissively.

‘But not here. And not in the forest, either,’ he said. ‘Let them get to the road first, and only then…’

‘What do you mean?’ the surprised peasant asked. ‘You mean, you want us to walk out, to leave the village grounds?’

‘Yes, you fool! You wouldn’t want to do it here, in the middle of the village, would you? If it comes to doing what needs to be done, I want it to happen as far away from the village as possible. Let’s hope this boy will come to his senses by then, and that it won’t be necessary - But if not, well… No one will be able to say we didn’t warn them! In our peaceful Dusty Village, nobody gets hurt, see? Everyone knows this, If you stay here, you are safe - but what happens outside…that is not really our concern anymore, now is it?’

Micala approached her husband with a very confused look on her face. She held the baby tightly in her arms and the little girl by her hand. Brave was also orbiting around them, in a perpetual, inexhaustible motion. The woman looked ahead toward the road, toward the Prospector who was just walking away victoriously.

She then looked attentively at Eli, studying him for a few moments. She could have said a lot in those brief seconds. She had many questions, many things to say, but perhaps now was not a good time - not before the major change they were all about to undergo. It was not the right time.

She then smiled at him tenderly, seeing how worried he was. Looking at her too, bewildered, Eli reached for the boy’s hand and gently pulled him closer to himself. He looked at Micala insistently, downcast, but did not dare to say anything out loud.

Micala realized that something was wrong, but she was afraid to assume. She looked at the intertwined hands of the man and his son for several long moments, trying to decipher the symbolic message in her husband’s actions. She then looked towards Eli, and his eyes now told her everything. She tilted her head to one side, in confusion, analysing his face and his body, both drained of all their vital glow and energy, then she finally understood what was about to happen.

‘No…,’ she finally reacted, responding to a question no one had even asked her. She shook her head repeatedly in denial, faster and faster,’ No, No! Absolutely not, I don’t even want to think about it!’ she shouted. ‘You promised me, Eli! You promised!’

Tears began to fill her eyes, followed by loud, uncontrollable sobs. She carefully placed the baby in the carriage, on a thick woollen blanket - the little girl climbed right in after him, instinctively. The woman then approached Eli again and whispered between heavy sobs.

‘Eli, no… Please! You promised!’

‘….It’s better this way,’ he said, trying to sound convincing but failing miserably.

‘Eli!” the woman yelled, trying to wake him from the numbness that now seemed to cloud his thoughts.

‘Trust me, Micala, it’s better this way, you’ll see. I have a plan!’ he said, laughing, almost hysterically, ‘I’ll fix everything, you’ll see! And, soon, you will be able to come back…’

The slap came out of nowhere. Micala slapped him across the face, as hard and viciously as she could, she swallowed the harsh words she would otherwise have shouted at him, if the children weren’t present, then bent down slowly and kissed Brave on the forehead. She embraced the boy, suffocating him with bitter affection, all the while staring over his shoulder straight into her husband’s eyes.

‘No matter what we do, Eli,’ the woman said, hatefully resigned, ‘Your heart will always belong here… Only the blood of this damned village still runs through your veins, and it binds you, blindly, to these accursed lands…’

She looked at him sternly once again, then climbed into the wagon next to the children.

‘It’s clear to me now, you will never leave here, even in death, Eli…Even in death!’ she yelled hoarsely. Then she snapped the reins hard and the horse suddenly galloped forward, leaving only dust and resentments behind it.

Alone in the church tower, Eli bitterly recalled all the details of that mournful morning… and was now more determined than ever to end this induced drama of his homeland. To somehow break out of his grotesque cycle of "Unbeliever Traditions", to redeem his name and mistakes, to regain and deserve his wife’s love and forgiveness.

Micala… He remembered the beautiful face of his young wife, sitting in the carriage, as they sped gradually away, then looking back over her shoulder to see her husband one more time - not even knowing that it might have been perhaps for the last time ….

And as the carriage disappeared through the trees, on the narrow dirt roads up ahead, Eli saw the scattered groups of villagers, emerging from their homes, lethargically converging from all parts of the town, lit candles in hand, and instinctively marching towards the church - for the very last service of the year.

NEXT CHAPTER S&S11

Did they really see me at the port? David wondered, terrified. Did they really see the shooting? Did they really see me when I tossed the bag in the back? His numb hands gripped the steering wheel tighter and tighter, and his body trembled all over. He breathed rapidly, successively, and tried to think quickly of his next steps.

Whatever he was going to do, from there on out, could drastically change the course of the journey - either for better, or for worse. Any inappropriate response that he would utter, any credible detail omitted from the story he was about to tell the cops, or, on the contrary, any inappropriate detail accidentally revealed during the inevitable discussion that would follow with the police, would have compromised all his efforts thus far and would have surely sabotaged any future chance of ever getting another job from Tiny the loan shark again.

David heard him yelling from inside the car, in a muffled tone, while he desperately cranked on the short lever by his side to roll down the window. The officer was rambling on continuously in a reproachful, irritable tone. A menacing tone, too, which worried the young driver even more - even if they couldn’t clearly hear what the man was even saying. If only he had encountered a calmer one… a more pliable one, he thought bitterly, maybe he could have gotten out of that treacherous situation more easily. Yet, by the looks of it, he was clearly in trouble!

TO BE CONTINIED

Numbers 35:33-34 Bloodshed pollutes the land, and atonement cannot be made for the land on which blood has been shed, except by the blood of the one who shed it. Do not defile the land where you live and where I dwell, for I, the LORD, dwell among the Israelites. ' ”

Philippians 1:6 develops the theme of God's preserving grace—which ensures the perseverance of His own