A Stolen Tongue Read Online Free Page B

bring a pulley or a sail crashing down upon his head.
    Fifth and last: As a pilgrim carefully climbs from one cross bench to another, let him grasp the tension lines and carefully ease himself out onto one of the horns of the ship, which is a comfortable spot to sit and think, always making sure he sits not in pitch, whichsubstance covers almost every inch of the ship, and which would be easier to spot if a pilgrim were allowed what is forbidden in Article the Second.
    I settle myself on the ship’s prow, where I am wont to sit during the day, and lean my back against the damp rigging. Even alone, brothers, you are not alone at sea. The Ocean is crowded with creatures: large, round fishes shaped like winnowing fans, some with heads like dogs and floppy long ears, dolphins, mer-people, Scyllas and Charybdises that suck ships down. At night, a monster called the Troyp circles and with his long sharp beak pierces the sides of ships. Should you ever encounter a Troyp, lean as far over the side as you dare, fix it with a fearless stare, and on no accounts look away. If you grow frightened of the Troyp’s hypnotic eyes and falter, he will rise up and devour you straightaway.
    How Katherine haunted me tonight! I can still see the swift panic in her salt-reddened eyes, still smell her blood where it bloomed in our ship’s wake. I am not a fanatic, brothers, nor am I a star-eyed prophet claiming visions from beyond. The infrequent glimpses I’m allowed of Katherine are perhaps no more than clothes I give to air, and yet only one other time have I felt her this strongly.
    The night before I left on pilgrimage, brothers, a strange dread overtook me. As I lay awake in my familiar room, keenly aware of my packed trunk in the corner, my pocket processional upon it, and my clean pilgrim’s costume on a nail by the door, all the eagerness I felt for touring Jerusalem and Sinai, which heretofore had been my greatest desire, suddenly drained away and was replaced by an intense loathing for travel. Those of you who had counseled me against going appeared as my truest friends, and those who encouraged me seemed to me enemies of my life. A trembling fear of the sea possessed me, and I conceived so many objections to pilgrimage that, had I not been ashamed, I would have run straight to Abbot Fuchs and begged to stay in Ulm. But then the miracle. As I lay in bed, one cowardly foot skimming the floor, a voice cut through my turmoil, pitched in the low, severe tones of a injured spouse.
    Will you come when I call, my husband?
it asked.
    I started up, expecting to find a woman in bed beside me, Katherine’s hardened face, her blond hair spilling over her shoulder like a spurned Valkyrie’s. But all was dark. Only the echo of her challenge hung in the air.
    Would I come when she called? Was this dream not a dream but a cry for help? No milk flowed from her severed hand tonight, only cold red blood.
    What makes a saint choose a certain friend, brothers? Saint Paulinus kept company with my name saint, Saint Felix, though he knew him not in life; he built a villa by his grave, fashioned poems in his honor, was laid beside him in death. Fifty years ago, my wife Katherine, along with Saints Margaret and Michael, spoke to a young peasant girl from Domremy, encouraging her to put on knight’s armor and liberate France from the English. These friendships are formed across the great gulf of Heaven; they are unlikely, dangerous alliances. We must take as much care in these friendships as we would walking about a dark ship at night.
    First: We must be deliberate in our scaling of the ladder to Heaven, lest we take undue pride in our friendship and tumble painfully to earth.
    Second: Like a lantern on deck at night, we must hide the light of our saint under a bushel, lest we be too tempted to gaze upon her always and slide into the sin of idolatry.
    Third: We should be careful not to wake the galley slaves of the Devil, those being