Day 37 –Rainy Day

"Wish the verdammt weather would make up its mind," Gilbert mumbled as he turned on the wipers. The whole day in Bristol had been gray and moist, with occasional drizzles. A fine spray seemed to settle on him and Lili as they checked out the port city's restaurants and landmarks. It was after lunch and they were headed out to Wales and Tintern Abbey.

Gilbert heard Lili gasp as the road curved. He glanced over and saw the gray Gothic ruins rise out of the wet green Welsh countryside, surrounded by mist. "Sehr kühl!" he said approvingly.1She looked back at him, delighted.

Unlike Stonehenge, they didn't need a tour guide and they could walk freely among the abbey's remains. The rainy forecast kept tourists away, which made them both glad. Lili took pictures of the empty window tracery, as Gilbert studied the walls. He touched a column, feeling the cool, damp stone.

There was power here too. He could close his eyes and feel it enter him through the stone. This energy was as old as Stonehenge's, but it felt more collected and focused. He traced his fingers down to the wet grass. Here, the power flowed into his veins at a steady tension; it reminded him of what he had felt when he had ridden a well-trained horse, the perfect connection of two living beings through the reins. He found himself remembering the horses he had loved, how the most spirited bent their necks for him and yielded to his wishes without resentment or fear. And he recalled their tremendous trust in him, even in a terrifying battle charge, when they went forward because they had considered him their leader and were willing to follow his commands. Those beautiful, trusting, noble creatures, shot under him, shattered and crippled on battlefields, all because he had asked them to go forward and they had.

Lili came over to him and knelt by his side. Before she could say anything, Gilbert took her hand and placed it on the damp ground. "Here," he said, "close your eyes, be still, and tell me what you feel." She did as he said, and he watched her. Since she was a young nation and one cobbled together to get a family some power in the Holy Roman Empire, he wondered if she would have the same connection to land that others did.2 He knew France and Spain, for example, couldn't imagine living without their own terrains and climates. But then there were nations like Poland; he had survived despite the partitions because his people had kept him alive in their hearts. And that was why Gilbert, and later Ludwig, had outlawed the Polish language, anthem, and other practices in order to make Feliks's people forget him. But they had failed.

So he watched Lili, to see if she could pick on the energy coming up in the abbey's site. He saw her look very serious, and then a soft smile formed on her lips. She opened her eyes and he could see a happiness, a joy in discovering a secret. "What did you feel?" He asked.

"I felt all these little threads come together and braid into one long, beautiful straight braid," she said, and Gilbert's first thought was that's weird. But maybe different nations felt or envisioned different things. Lili continued. "And the braid was strong and even and held at a perfect tension. You could pluck it and it would make a beautiful sound." Her smile slowly faded. "And then the braid was cut and the sound died." She looked around at the remains of the chapel and the monks' buildings. Through the outline of the rose window, they could see steel-blue clouds and green leaves where there had once been stained glass. "But if you listen very carefully, you can hear it. It still reverberates." She placed her hand over his and pressed it firmly into the wet earth. And there it was, a constant steady vibration.

Gilbert smiled at Lili. She had not failed him. Even though her language was different, she had felt the same power, the same sense of order and calm attention he had felt.

"Was this what you were doing at Stonehenge?" She asked and he nodded. She looked regretful. "I should have done that with you instead of listening to the tour guide."

"Nein, Lili." Gilbert wasn't sure if she would have liked what he had felt on Salisbury Plain, or if she would have understood it. But then, maybe he underestimated her. "You learned some good stuff, I'm sure."

"Was your life like this when you were the Teutonic Order?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Nein. We weren't a contemplative or monastic order." He looked down at the bright, beaded grass. "We were just thugs with a cross." He remembered being relieved when the last Grand Master of the Order had shed the pretense of piety and decided to make Gilbert the Duchy of Prussia. He could finally admit to what he really worshipped : land and power.

He helped her up and they stood in the abbey, admiring its bones. Lili suddenly turned to him. "You know," she said, "it never wanted to make people suffer. It just wanted to give them a sense of purpose, something else to do with their lives besides eat, make babies, and fight." He was stunned, and simply nodded.

The sky was growing a darker, more metallic shade of blue. The two could feel the energy, not just in the abbey, but even the sky became thicker and more urgent. As they walked back to the car and the rain began to pour, Gilbert took Lili's hand and squeezed it. He felt reassured by what she had felt and said in the remains of the abbey; he felt a little better about what the power at Stonehenge demand that he do.

1 German: very cool!

2 See PruLiech 100 Day Challenge:Maiden and Unicorn, Chapter 16: Childhood Memories