Chapter Four: The Gentle Philosophers
I did not know why the human guards let me pass by them. At the time I guessed it was because I ran so assuredly it looked like I had official business there. In hindsight I know their souls recognized me.
Three friends chatted quietly at the front door. As with the guards, they did not see the spirits above them. But they certainly saw me. They stopped talking and stared.
The leader was a man covered in the scars of many battles. His unnaturally red beard was in contrast with his black locks. His stance was relaxed, yet his pupils were immersed in anger. He wore a dark brown tunic with gold buttons. A quiver of arrows hung off his back an long curved bow sat in his right hand. His hands and cheeks were smeared with dirt.
The eldest among them was a gray haired lady. Wrinkles weighed down her once-beautiful face. Her arms were covered in faded tattoos. A black shroud covered the body she must have loved to display.
The most foreign among them was an Arab. He bore his perfumed beard and curly mustache with pride. His bright silks did little to hide his bulging stomach. He moved his hands in such a way that showed off his jeweled rings. The thick hairs sticking out of his green turban were not unlike mine.
Even though the Arab and I looked similar, my attire created a barrier between us. Between the blue fringes dangling off the corners of my robe and the blue skullcap pinned to the back of my head, I looked outlandish. I knew from personal experience that if I spoke first I would be more warmly received.
"Shalom," I said cheerily. "I bless you all in the name of Adoni, the god of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob."
They needed a minute to process my words. This was my first time attempting English and my Galilean accent was very thick.
The lord of the manor asked, "Who are you?"
"A weary and lonely traveller from Israel."
"Impossible!" the old lady snorted in Greek. "No one gets in or out of Israel. The steel wall sees to that!"
I gave laugh to match her snort. "There are always ways for those who know where to look."
She was not amused. "What business would an Israelite have with the outside world, when all his needs are met inside?"
"I felt the call to adventure. Dissatisfied with my lot. Curious to travel Gentile roads."
This was all true, though it was not the whole story. I knew better than to give my name or mention the angels. No need to burden them. Not yet anyway.
"What do you think of our country?" The beautiful young lady asked.
"Wholly depressing," I answered without hesitation. "I could have given that answer anywhere. I've been all over the globe. I just came from the Arabic kingdoms."
The Fat Ottoman sighed dramatically. "Your wisdom disappoints me."
The lord scratched his sideburns. "When was the last time you had a hot meal, Israelite?"
He was considering inviting me to dinner with them, an unusual practice for men like him. But his soul recognized me too.
"Nothing in a month."
"A month! How?"
I shrugged casually. "A few meditation exercises I've learned from my travels."
But there is something else I have not yet mentioned. No matter how I explain it, I cannot convey the power I have over my own body. My body, and my spirit.
This explanation would have to do for now.
"Would you like to break your fast with us?" he asked.
My barren stomach flared up. I glanced up at the angels. They were keeping the shadows at bay with ease. But the sky's corners still darkened with demonic legions.
In my humblest tone I said, "Thank you for your offer. But I cannot eat anything that violates the Mosaic Law."
The old lady moaned. Mustapha lighting jabbed her arm. She stopped. I pretended not to notice.
The lord asked, "Would deer meat, potatoes, fried tomatoes, and red wine be violations?"
My mouth watered. "No, that is good and Kashrut!"
"Kashrut!" the lord repeated.
"Yes. Deer have split hooves and they chew their cud. Kashrut!"
He went on. "Kashrut! Kashrut! Kashrut!" He liked the word. It tickled his teeth. "Well, I hope you have enough patience for my venison to cook. I only just shot it a minute ago."
"Believe me, I have all the patience in the world."
"Good. I am sure that by the time we've washed up, our portions will be even more… kashrut."
I responded in total dignity. "Yes, I am sure."
He clapped his hands dramatically three times and a young lady in her early thirties descended from the castle steps. Her crimson locks were curled in an intricate style unknown to me. Her lips and nails were painted red. Her curvaceous body was generously tucked into a diaphanous purple gown.
"Yes, milord?" she asked sweetly.
He did not turn to acknowledge her. "She will take you to where you can refresh yourself. "
She curtsied first to him, then to me. I followed her up the steps into the stony hall. Now was time to discover why the angels were defending this place. When I was sure we were out of earshot I hissed, "Why are these three meeting here?"
"They call themselves the Gentle Philosophers. They have met here every Monday for the past three years. There never meet for business or war. The rest of the world can deal with those matters for all they care. What they care about are the secrets few think to discuss: The nature of good and evil, matter, time, the gods themselves!"
She did not slow down as she spoke. On the contrary, she sped up without meaning to.
"You speak of it with passion," I noted.
She stopped dead in her tracks just a moment, then resumed at normal speed. I still was not done gathering information.
"A fun batch to eavesdrop on when they aren't expecting you, I'd wager."
She nodded timidly. "But they have exhausted all their topics. They need something new to explore. You are the answer to an oft-said prayer."
If only she knew...
She also reminded me of something I learned long ago. The battle between Heaven and Hell is internal. It is not fought on meadows of carnage, but among flickering torches such as these. It would seem the Adversary did not approve of their topics of discussion. The Adversary would certainly not be pleased I was here stirring things up.