Molloy, Ace Ian Combat, CajunBear73, I appreciate your incisive comments. Sorry it took such a long time to update. Birthing a story is sometimes hard for me. Sometimes? Always.
Bobboky, thank you for your kind R & R.
the basic outline has been my head for a couple years. it just takes a long time to gestate, like I said.
The historical details are what I remember studying about when I was in school, several decades ago. Hope I got them right.
Ron's deep thoughts of the historical hostility between Christendom and Jewry? it sort of stands there, like a big pink elephant everyone wants to ignore. It hppened. It continues to happen. But it doesn't go away if we all just stand around and put on a happy face. There are issues to face. And if a little humility for ancestral historical evil is called for, so be it. And if we cannot agree on everything, we must to learn to live together like reasonable men. Total conformity of belief by force is the way of the tyrant, like Antiochus, in the story.
But within the marketplace of ideas, the public forum of discussion, everyone is free to state their views--and even endeavor to convert others--by persuasion, not by force. This is a prerequesite to a free society.. It is a fine balance--hard to maintain. Can we do it? God Grant. And no suppression of thought by political correctness. That is as forbidden as suppression of free thought by tyranny.
The Bible verse above the chapel door in German is from Martin Luthur's translation of the Bible, dated 1545. I found it at BibleGateWay-dot-com.
CHAPTER 3
"Und das iss der conclusion, my dear guests, of der tale of our blessed Cyneburga," said Gustave Von Holt.
There was a great dining hall in the castle, with a great oaken table, but Gustave had served his guests at the roughhewn pine table in the kitchen.
Ron watched Gustave with interest. He was reminded--of all people--of his great-grandfather Jon Stoppable. Same height as Ron, hair slicked back, mutton-chop sideburns, handlebar moustache, high starched collar. He had a towel around his waist like an apron.
And that thick German accent. Thank goodness Gustave spoke English, thought Ron--or at least he thought it was English.
Ron also watched Kim with great interest. Normally, Kim and history were like Kim and Smarty Mart--or Kim and cooking--or Ron and science class. Like oil and water. They simply didn't mix. But Kim sat transfixed, her elbows on the table, her hands folded, her eyes rapturous, her face glowing. Every few moments, a tear trickled down each cheek. Ron had never seen her so moved.
Kim's face glowed as she heard the story; her heart felt like it would fly out of her chest. She could identify with the girl; what courage.
Ron listened intently, too. He thought about his own ancestral stories.
The Maccabees:
For a precious few centuries before the birth of Christ, Jewish independence flowered. The Jews had their nation and their Temple. But the King of Syria, Antiochus Epiphanes, tried to take the land.
He outlawed Judaism. He abolished the kosher food laws. He sacrified swine, an unclean animal in the Temple. To keep the Sabbath or circumcise male children was punishable with death.
A family of brothers rose up. The Maccabees. Judas, Jonathan, and Simon. They led the resistance.
The Syrian army had the freedom fighters holed up in the Temple. Food was running low. Even oil for the lamps. Enough for seven days. But a miracle occurred. The oil lasted for eight days. The little Jewish force was heartened, and they carried on the battle.
And the holiday of Hanukkah was born.
Masada.
In the year 77 A.D., the Jews revolted against the empire of Rome. The Roman army destroyed Jerusalem and the Jewish nation.
The last stand of the Jewish rebels and their families was at an old fortress atop the plateau of Masada. It was hopeless. So they killed themselves rather than be captured.
And the rest of it. The pogroms. The Holocaust.
Being killed for one's religious faith? That was so sick and wrong! How glad he was that he and K.P. had what they had between them. He felt a great wave of sympathy and sadness for this first K.P., or C.B. Obviously she didn't have a Stoppable, or some good Jewish kid watching her back.
Rufus's antics brought Ron's thoughts back to the present.
Rufus was imitating Gustave, much to Gustave's delight. He had wrapped a napkin round his waist, like Gustave's towel-apron, and was actually talking in comprehensible speech. "Herr Schoppable und Fraulein Pozzibol, tomorrow for breakfast ve vill serrrve sausage und eggs. Please be here promptly."
Gustave laughed uproariously.
And Rufus turned his attention to him. "Herr Holt," he said in his thin piping voice, "For shame. You haff drunk three mugs of beer in frrront of these imprrresionable underage youth--und you haff not even offered me a swallow!" And he belched.
Gustave laughed harder. Tears of hilarity came from his eyes.
Kim poked Rufus. "Rufus! Behave yourself! Herr Holt is our host!"
"No, no, Fraulein Pozzibol, it is okay," said Gustave reassuringly. "But I must ask Herr Rrrufus how he has managed to eat five cheese strudels without bursting open. He looks like a stuffed weinerschnitzel."
And Rufus did look overfed, waddling about like a little penguin.
"Don't worry about him, Herr Holt," said Ron. "By midnight he'll be back to normal, and by tomorrow, he'll be as hungry again."
Kim whispered to Ron. "I have an idea." And she turned to their host. "Herr Holt," she asked, "Does the little chapel still exist? In the clearing where Cyneburga was killed?"
Gustave nodded.
Kim wanted to spend the night near the chapel, out of doors in the clearing, where legend said that the apparition of Cyneburga would sometimes appear.
Ron gulped. "Where some dead girl comes to talk to people?" He hated ghosts almost as much as he hated spiders and monkeys.
She nudged him. "I'll protect you."
Ron hesitated.
Kim started the Puppy Pout.
Ron caved.
Gustave them to the clearing bearing a lantern and a bedroll.
Ron carried a lantern in one hand. His other arm was around Kim's waist.
Kim held another bedroll. "This'll be fun," she bubbled. We can gather some wood and have a campfire--that's okay, isn't it, Herr Holt?"
Gustave nodded.
Kim snuggled up to Ron. "And if Wotan stops by, I have my brave knight to protect me."
Ron rolled his eyes.
Gustave spoke with sudden seriousness. "It is an honorable role--a heroine's holy protector." Suddenly the thick German accent that was so charming was strangely absent
Ron shrugged "Me? Nah. I'm just a sidekick--like Shego used to call me. But being a boyfriend--" And he winked and smiled. "--That's one sidekick perk I can live with."
"Two final words, young sidekick. First--the sacred animals of Wotan--as the legends say--are the wolf, the raven, and the serpent. Watch for them. They precede his coming. Second--remember the words of David. 'He has put a new song into my mouth.' 'Thy Word have I hid in my heart.' 'The Name of the Lord is a sure defense.' " Keep these things in mind and you will indeed be your heroine's holy protector.
Ron was too surprised to talk. And little creeped out. Was Gustave playing mind games? A little prank?
The little stone chapel stood like a sheltering sanctury nearby. Some words were carved in German above the door.
Offenbarung 12:11. Und sie haben ihn überwunden durch des Lammes Blut und durch das Wort ihres Zeugnisses und haben ihr Leben nicht geliebt bis an den Tod.
"Herr Holt, my German is kinda rusty," said Kim, biting her tongue. She could picture Barkin: "Possible, you're being a slacker, just like Stoppable."
"I will translate," said Gustave.
Revelation 12:11. And they overcame him by the blood of the Lamb, and by the word of their testimony; and they loved not their lives unto the death.
"Herr Holt?" asked Ron.
"Jawol, Herr Stoppable?"
"I get Who the Lamb is--it's talking about--er--Jesus Christ."
"Very good, Herr Stoppable."
"But who are 'they'?"
"The believers of God. The righteous. The martyrs, those who suffer for their faith. Like Boniface. Like Cyneburga. Even like your Maccabees. Even like many who perished in my poor country under the rule of the madman Adolph Hitler."
"And who is 'him'? The one they overcame?"
"He who is called Der Drache--the Dragon. Der Teufel--the devil. Satan. The persecutor of the righteous."
Ron gulped. "Oh. Just wondered."
Good night, Herr Holt. See you in the morning!" Said Kim cheerily.
"Guten nact, my friends. In the morning, God willing."
"God willing." Why do people have to say that just before bedtime? thought Ron. It makes it sound like they might not wake up--alive. Ron panicked.Gah! Sick and wrong!
Gustave left them with severe misgivings."Blessed Saint," he whispered, "A trial awaits them--such they have never faced, in their entire careers of doing missions--such as few ever have or ever will face--in all the history of the world, from start to finish. The hideous creature."
A young woman's gentle voice spoke--to his inner ear? To his heart? "I faced the selfsame trial--and the selfsame creature--alone."
"But our world has grown fat and lazy," protested Gustave. "Our hearts are cold with unbelief."
"She is my daughter," answered the Voice. Do not judge by appearance only. A double portion of my spirit dwells within her. Remember. In this generation will my descendant appear. And her young man will do battle on her behalf. And the demon will be driven away."
The Prophecy of Boniface.
Gustave crossed himself. He fingered the slver chain round his neck. He took out a crucifix and kissed it "Faithful saint, I join my poor prayers to yours. Intercede with Our Lord for these two."
"Do not fear, my dear friend and little brother. Greater is our Savior, Who dwells within you than the Evil One who resides in the world. And He is with them. Have faith in God."
The night began innocently enough. They sat at the campfire and chatted, hugged, kissed, watched the stars, and hugged and kissed some more. Then a mischievous twinkle gleamed in her eyes, and that wicked little grin that Ron loved so much came to her lips. "Hey, Stoppable, wanna fool around? I so feel like makin' out."
"Kim! We're on holy ground! And I'm not even a Christian!"
The corners of her mouth turned down. Her brow furrowed.
"No! Not the Puppy Pout!"
The sad lines appeared around her eyes. Her lower lip stuck out and quivered.
"Aw, K.P.! You gotta play fair!"
The Puppy Pout blossomed.
Rufus turned his fce away. "Yuck. Kissey face." And he sought refuge in Ron' pocket.
"G'night, Rufus," said Kim and Ron.
Rufus mumbled something. He was going to dream about cheese strudel.
They talked discussed and hugged talked some more. They sang the Drakken rap as they repeated, "Lather, rinse, obey!"
A tickle fight developed.
Kim's squeals drifted up with the cmpfire smoke. "You perv! Stop messing with me! We're on holy ground!"
Ron laughed. ""But you wanted to fool around!"
It was a beautiful night. The crackling campfire. The cheerful little circle of light. The bright stars ovrhead. The wind blowing gently through the trees. So peaceful.
Kim had drifted off to sleep, her head pillowed in Ron's lap. Ron was thinking profound thoughts--unusual for him.
He had been to the Tri-City Holocaust Memorial. He had seen the historical presentation of. The progroms. Anti-Jewish hatred throughout the ages.
Sometimes it was turned around. Jewish-on Christian violence.
Ron was frank with himself. After all, they had a point. The chief priests--crafty old Annas, his son-in-law Caiaphas, and the inner core of the Sanhedrin had conspired with Herod Antipas and Pontius Pilate to execute Jesus of Nazareth. And they had used the zealous young rabbinical student and member of the council, Paul of Tarsus to suppress the Christians--until he had a miraculous conversion.
But then there was that matter of six million victims--Ann Frank and all the rest.. Hey, Lord, Ron asked himself, doesn't that kind of even things out? Can't the Ku Klux Klan and the Neo-Nazi skinheads just leave the Chosen People alone?
No, he realized. Not as long as they were trying to do b.s. like rewrite history--saying places like Auschwitz never existed.
In the end, all he himself could do was what he had done all along. Help K.P. save the world.
Rabbi Katz said there was something in the Talmud. Whoever saves a single life, it is as though he saved all mankind--or something like that.
Ron's mind turned to the stories of the Bible.
Angelic and demonic encounters. Adam and the serpent in the Garden of Eden. Moses and the Burning Bush. Abraham hosting three mysterious visitors. Jacob wrestling the stranger. Ron somehow couldn't identity with such things
...But then the dreams began. After all, it was Walpurgis.
And Kim moaned and cried out in her sleep.
And then Ron himself began experiencing--things--feelings--voices in his head--ghastly fears.
to be continued
