Feeling better. It's been a while since I've had one of those bad days like that. I realized that in addition to the emotional stress of having to open up to strangers about the past, my diet was affecting my mood. I'd been on zero carb for a few weeks (trying to get my metabolism and endocrine system back in order), and didn't realize how grumpy and negative it was making me feel until I had dinner with my daughter last night. So I ate some fruit and ezekiel bread, and now I feel much better.

I regret now that I brought those things up here. But I guess it had to come out. When something is buried deep, you've got to recognize and acknowledge that it's still there before you can finally let it go.

"Must you delight in torturing yourself? Was ever such a mighty heart so weak?"

-- Jean Racine, Berenice (III.ii.815-16)

"May I tell her 'I love you' without trembling?

Already, ah, I tremble. My torn heart

Mistrusts this moment much as I desired it.

Long since, she put an end to all my hopes

And bade me never utter more my love.

For five years I kept silent; till today

I hid my passion under friendship's veil.

...

What shall I profit from this rash avowal?

Since I must go, why go, annoying her?

Let me withdraw, depart, without a word,

And far away let me forget or die.

What? Must she never know the pangs I suffer?

And must I always weep and gulp my tears?

-- ibid (I.ii.20-36)

Mediterranean Baroque

Baroque romance and passion. Just because it's so good.

So good.

Here are the words to the second one. I won't translate them--they're rather erotic; Song of Solomon erotic. Translate them yourself, if you wish.

Pigliate la paletta e vae pi’ ffoco

E va’ alla casa di lu ‘nnammurato

E passa duje ore ‘e juoco.

Si mamma se n’addona ‘e chiste juoco

Dille ca so’ state falelle de foco,

E vule di’ e llà, chello che vo’ la femmena fa!

Luce lu sole quanno è buono tiempo,

Luce lu pettu tujo, donna galante

Mpietto li tieni duje pugnali argiento.

A chi li tocchi bella, nci fa santo,

E ti li tocchi je ca so’ l’amante

E ‘mParaviso jamme certamente…

E vule di’ e llà, chello che vo’ la femmena fa!

“The greatest disease in the West today is not TB or leprosy; it is being unwanted, unloved, and uncared for. We can cure physical diseases with medicine, but the only cure for loneliness, despair, and hopelessness is love. There are many in the world who are dying for a piece of bread but there are many more dying for a little love.” -- Mother Theresa

"I consider rejection to be the deepest wound of the human spirit." -- Derek Prince

I find myself, as I work to complete my grad school application, struggling with quite a bit of apprehension. 

The thing is, they want a work reference, an academic reference, and a pastoral one. But I don't have a work reference, because I haven't had a job since 2006. That would be fine; I can use volunteer work. But I don't have an academic reference, because of the circumstances under which I left grad school before. And, I don't have a pastoral reference, because of the circumstances under which I left church.

So, I've had to get much more personal than I'd hoped, and try to explain to them what happened, and what I've been going through. And that hurts. It hurts because it's stirring it all up again. It hurts because I'm exposing my most vulnerable parts to strangers. And it's creating a big knot of fear that I'm going to be judged and rejected. Again.

And by dredging all that up, it's reminding me how very alone I am, and how little purpose or meaning my life has.

I've had some brief contact with people from church recently. And I've been told, again, that I should come back: that I'm welcome, and reminded that I was never "asked" to leave. But the thing is, that while it's true that I was never asked to leave, it's also true that, by the end, I was being treated very differently than I had been before all this started. For example, whereas before I had always been very active and participated in the discussions in our classes and studies, by the end I was being intentionally shut down and talked over by the rector or other priests. And whereas earlier I had had a very good relationship with the women in the church, by the end I was being shunned, avoided, and downright ignored by them. And given that treatment where they looked at me with suspicion and judgment in their eyes. Especially by the younger women. There was one girl, for instance, who was new to the church, and we ended up working together during a church work day, and talking quite a bit. There was nothing going on--I had no romantic interest; it was just a pleasant conversation. And when it was over, she said she hoped to talk to me again. But when I saw her the following Sunday, I said hello, and she flat-out ignored me: stared resolutely in a different direction and said nothing at all. I said it twice, thinking she hadn't heard me. Then later, I saw her whispering with "Her" and understood. Another time, I ran into a couple with whom I'd always gotten on very well, at the movie theatre. But when the wife saw me, she whispered to her husband, and they crossed to the other side of the street and passed by, pretending they hadn't seen me. It goes on. People not responding to my emails, or not returning things I'd loaned them. No one wanting to sit with me, in service or at meals. I could cite more, but you get the idea.

It is true, that there were some people who did not act this way, and continued to make an effort. And a few who even continue to make an effort now. And I thank those people: they are genuine examples of Christian love. But I can't bear the behavior of the rest--the wounds of rejection in my soul are too deep.

I see now that this is why I've put off reapplying for school, or making any kind of real change, until now. I have this wall of fear I have to get through.

No doubt, some are saying, "Yes, well we should rely on God's love, not on the love of people." Well, that may very well be true--and I do rely on God's love. It's all I've got, and has been for years now. But have you ever tried it? I mean, really tried it? Have you ever genuinely been without any human acceptance and affection whatsoever? Not many have. God created us with a need for human love. And that need does not go away, just because we believe in him. We have to trust in him for our food, too. And if we're going hungry, we trust in him, and either look forward with hope to when he will provide for us again, or accept that we will starve and die, and go to be with him. But it doesn't stop us from feeling hungry, nor our bodies from suffering. Our bodies need food, and our souls need love, and the lack of either hurts.

Breathe

Happened upon this film today, and it was wonderful. Truly extraordinary; I recommend it wholeheartedly. I don't think I've ever seen a finer example of what True Love truly is.

Further Thoughts on "A Chance"

Here's what I was thinking, in regards to "if you ever decided you wanted to give me a chance":

I'm thinking I would like to court you, not "date" you, in the contemporary sense. We could just put everything from the past behind us, and start over from scratch: simply forgive each other, and then move past it all. And then we would go very slowly, very cautiously, very respectfully, at your pace. Part of us forgiving each other would be me saying how sorry I am that I tried to rush it before.

I'm thinking that there would be no expectations, no pressure. You know what my feelings are, and what I would ultimately like to happen. But I would promise to set all that aside, to put it in a box, until you were ready to open it (that is, if you were ready to open it). I could keep it in the same box with your gifts. That means that, if you agreed to proceed on these terms, I would not take that to mean that you were committing to anything further at all--that is was a chance and nothing more. I would promise not to assume that it was ever going to be more, until and unless you said so. And if you wanted to start with just rebuilding a friendship, I would promise to never bring up anything regarding romance or relationship unless you told me clearly that you were ready. I cannot promise that there would be no hope: there would be. I can't help that. There always will be, until you marry someone else or I move on to the next life. But I would keep it to myself. There would be hope, but no presumption or expectation.

I'm thinking that I'd love to take you on real, old-fashioned, formal dates: dress nicely, pick you up, bring you flowers, buy you dinner, treat you with respect, pay you nice compliments, talk with you like we did that day when we had lunch alone after church, walk you to your door. You know, I've never done that. Not ever. Not with anyone. If I'm in Chicago, then we could meet to do it, and it might even make it more enjoyable that we have to work toward it. We could meet in different places: sometimes here, sometimes there. Sometimes it could be somewhere completely new and different.

I'm thinking that it would be fun to exchange letters with you. Not email, not texts: actual paper letters, written by hand, and mailed with stamps and hand-written addresses. I would be careful not to express my feelings too intensely, until you let me know that you're ready for it. All I'd ask is that you help me to know--tell me if I overstep, and if I miss a hint or a sign, try again. I believe I've gotten much better about that sort of thing; but I can't promise that I would always get it right. I am, after all, still a man.

I'm thinking how much I'd love to give you all the presents I have for you, one at a time, spaced out over a long period. One here, one there, when the time is right. And of course, to be able to buy you new ones, when the urge strikes. Until, if and when you were ready, we'd reach that One Very Special gift I have for you.

I'm thinking that, if it would make it easier for you, we could keep it secret at first. Including, of course, my not saying anything about it here. We could just keep it between you and me, and see how it goes without the pressure of approval and expectations from other people--even our families. Then tell others when and if the time comes.

Of course, if that's not what you want, then I am at your disposal. If you showed up like you did in my dream, and said you had decided that you loved me and wanted to get married as soon as possible, then that's what we would do. You would set the pace. And if things continue as they are now, meaning that your pace is "never", then I have to live with that too. It's all up to you.

I hope it would go without saying, that everything about this would be Christian, old-fashioned, and fully respectful of you, in full awareness of and commitment to all that those things imply, and in direct opposition to everything the modern world believes and practices regarding relationships. Before all else, you are my beautiful and precious sister.

You know, it just occurred to me that I made the exact opposite mistake from the one most guys make in this modern time: I rushed things emotionally, not physically. Ironic. Almost humorous. Mistake it was, but it pleases me, in a way, that I am the opposite of that typical modern male (I won't use the word 'man') which I despise so.

Something New

I've decided to put my house up for sale again.

I've spent the entire last year not being able to keep up with this place, as I've been recovering from exhaustion/malnutrition/overtraining/adrenal fatigue or whatever you want to call it. And, although I am definitely getting better, it is going quite slowly, and I honestly don't know how long it's going to be until I'm back at 100%. But while it's happening, the accumulated mental stress of having all these things I need to do, but can't keep up with, weighing on my mind is not helping.

Also, it seems the value of my property has gone up significantly in the last--what is it, two years?--since I listed it before. So, between the market change and the improvements I've made in the garden, I stand to make quite a nice profit.

And I've come to realize that this thing that I've always wanted to do, with living in the country, gardening, fishing, hunting, raising chickens...none of it means anything without a family.

I think I'm going to go back to school, finally. My hesitation has always been that, at my age, what am I going to do with it in the long run? But now I'm thinking, who cares? I'll be doing it because it's what I want to be doing, here and now, and that's all that matters. I've always wanted to do this; to correct my educational deficiencies, and now I'm going to do it.

I'm going to go to Wheaton College, near Chicago. One of the things I've realized, as I've grown over the last several years, is that I really only want to be around Christians. There are individual exceptions (e.g., my non-Christian friends) and of course there's the whole area of ministry to the poor, hurting, broken, and needy. But in general, when it comes to school, work, and social activities, The World doesn't like me and I don't like them. But that's okay: they don't like Jesus, either, and I do.

They have a program there in classical languages, which includes Latin, Greek, and Hebrew (and even offers a couple of courses in Hieroglyphics and Cuneiform!). It's an undergrad program, and I need to talk to them to work out whether I would enroll as an undergrad and work toward a second bachelor's, or enroll as a grad student and take the courses as prerequisites to my grad program. Either way, the goal will be the master's degree in Biblical exegesis; reading the Scriptures in their original languages. I want the Latin for general purposes and because so much of the history and theology of the Church is in it. After that, I may go on to their Ph.D. in theology, but we'll see when the time comes.

Also, it's time for me to leave my isolation and start having something in my life which involves other people. I haven't been ready, but I am now. I'm sick and tired of being lonely and bored. I want some work to do and some people to interact with. Which goes back to the point being not really what I'm going to do with the degree, but the intrinsic value of the education and the experience. I've checked, and there's an orthodox Anglican church quite near the college, which I think I'm ready to take a chance on again. I've already been looking at houses that would be in-between the two, and there are some quite nice ones: since I'll be there for a few years, it will make the most sense to buy one, so I'm not throwing money away on rent for all that time.

I will continue with my own writing while I'm doing it. In fact, I think that getting out of the hole I've been in for so long will actually help me to do more of it, by clearing my mind, and that the intellectual stimulation of the school work will help get the ideas flowing. I'm getting ready to start submitting my fairy tale which you've read here for publication. I want to tweak the end a bit, because I'm not happy with the emotional intensity of the reunion scene--I want it to be more like the scene where he gives her the rose. I was still on antidepressants when I wrote it, and was sort of shooting in the dark, emotionally. I'm waiting to hear back from my chief reader and critic, to get her thoughts on it, and then I'm going to do the re-writes and send it out into the Universe. I don't expect to get rich off it (that is, my writing in general, not just this story)--it's too niche. If it has any appeal at all, it's going to be to the kind of people who read George MacDonald and Andrew Lang. Again, The World doesn't like me, and they're not going to like my work, either. (I'm half-expecting some agent or editor to try to convince me to add more "strong female" characters or make it a gay/lesbian fairy tale. "Hey, why don't you make the princess fight the giant and rescue the knight!")

I'll still be available for You, if you ever decide you want to give me a chance. Or if you just decide you want a friend again who thinks the world of you. We'll just have to work around the relocation. Who knows, maybe that would actually help--take off some of the pressure of family and community.

So, that's my plan, God-willing. "Come now, you who say, 'Today or tomorrow we will go into such and such a town and spend a year there and trade and make a profit'— yet you do not know what tomorrow will bring. What is your life? For you are a mist that appears for a little time and then vanishes. Instead you ought to say, 'If the Lord wills, we will live and do this or that.' " -- James 4:13-15. And I'll just leave whatever is going to come from my studies, and from my writing, in God's hands; I'll ask his guidance in it and his blessing upon it, and see what happens.

I dreamed last night that I talked with you for hours. That is, I dreamed for hours that I was talking with you. And I awoke with my soul refreshed, like a man who has drunk long and deep from a spring of cool water in the midst of a desert; and with my heart lightened, like the first day of spring after a miserable winter.

I've been thinking lately that it would be better for me if I stopped writing about you. It's not the first time I've thought about this. But especially since seeing that video clip of you just absolutely annihilated me the other day, it's been on my mind. It's not like I haven't seen pictures of you or anything, but somehow this is worse.

What kills me about you, in reverse order:

7. Not being part of your life. Thinking about how other people get to be around you, talk to you, see you smile, make you smile, hug you. I get a gigantic knot in my chest.  Not being able to find a new way every day to tell you that I love you, and that you are lovely.
6. Living my life without you. Not being able to talk to you about the book I'm reading, or point out something beautiful I see to you, or ask you who composed the piece of music I'm listening to, or the thousand other things I wish I was sharing with you. Even when I'm not writing directly to you, when I'm just writing about my life, I feel a little like I'm talking to you. A poor substitute, to be sure, but better than nothing, I guess.
5. Seeing pictures of you. I think I may have mentioned once before, but in case you've forgotten: you are beautiful.
4. Hearing you play music: you know how it affects me. I try to avoid it, but not as successfully as I could wish.
3. Watching your face as it's animated while you talk. Every expression is delight and torture.
2. Hearing your voice.
1. Being near you. Luckily, or not-so-luckily, this one hasn't happened since that day I saw you in the Indian restaurant. The day I spent the whole meal not eating and trying not to let anyone see my hands shaking.

So I get to thinking, not that I've got to "get over it", because that's just not going to happen, but that I need to sort of just put it in a box, and put the box up on a shelf, where I'm not seeing it and thinking about it all the time, and get on with things. And that would mean not writing to you or about you on here anymore. I've even tried it a couple of times.

But then, I always get this picture of you, sitting in your room at the end of the day, or alone in a hotel or café somewhere, or on a long flight or train-ride. Maybe you've had a rough day, or maybe something made you feel bad, or maybe you're just lonely. So you come and check to see if I've had anything nice to say about you, because you need a bit of encouragement, or a little reminder how wonderful and special and lovely you are. And maybe it puts a little smile on your face. Which makes me happy, even though I don't get to see it. And perhaps you go to sleep that night with a warm feeling in your heart. Which does my heart good, even if I'm only imagining it.

And that's why I keep doing it, even though it hurts. I know I could be wrong about all that. But if I am, and you're not seeing it because you don't want to, then I'm not hurting anyone but myself. But if it is the way I imagine, then doing that one thing left to me which I can do for you is worth the cost. I want you to have that mirror to look into, to see yourself as I see you.

"When Jesus had lifted up himself, and saw none but the woman, he said unto her, 'Woman, where are those thine accusers? Hath no man condemned thee?
She said,'No man, Lord.'
And Jesus said unto her, 'Neither do I condemn thee. Go, and sin no more.'" -- John 8:10,11

This is one of my very favorite stories in the Bible. But it has also always made me feel guilty. I've always read Jesus's final words to the woman as just a command. And when I read it, I remember that I always do sin again, and I ask myself why I just can't be good.

But just now something different and wonderful appeared to me as I read this passage: Jesus wasn't just telling her to go and be good; he was freeing her. "Go, and sin no more" was spoken in the same way as "Rise, take up your bed and walk." The cripple couldn't obey of his own power if those were just words, and neither could the sinner. It only works if The Word speaks the words, and makes one able to obey.

Marriage in Heaven

"For in the resurrection they neither marry nor are given in marriage, but are like the angels in heaven." -- Matt 22:30


I've always been puzzled by this verse. On a surface reading, Jesus seems to be saying that everyone will be celibate in Heaven, and this has been the traditional reading of the church. But I've always suspected that there's something deeper going on here. Jesus is ever enigmatic when speaking to the Scribes, Pharisees, and Sadducees, and even, to a lesser degree, to the public outside his inner circle of disciples. This is by his own admission; see Matt 13:13 and Luke 8:10. For example, it is to the religious leaders who are accusing him of casting out demons by the prince of demons that he makes the extraordinary statement that "Whoever blasphemes against the Holy Spirit will never be forgiven; they are guilty of an eternal sin." Christian theology has generally rejected a purely literal interpretation of this in favor of one that sees "blasphemy against the Spirit" as having the light but preferring the darkness, i.e., complete and final apostasy.

This is what I've always suspected about Jesus's statement regarding marriage at the resurrection--that he was giving a deeper truth about the Kingdom of Heaven and about marriage, and not saying that there will be no union between man and woman after the resurrection. After all, marriage (and sex) were created by him before the Fall, and were pronounced "very good".

My suspicions have always fallen upon the phrase, "nor given in marriage", which seems to me to mean that the men who are asking the question are just missing the whole point: "Whose wife shall she be?" Well, whose wife does she want to be? But I've never been able to reconcile this with the part where he says "they shall neither marry".

But today, while researching another subject, I discovered that one of the Hebrew words for "to marry" is "ba'al", which, as a verb, means "to exercise dominion over", (and as a noun means "lord," "master," or "owner") and suddenly it all clicked. Look at Genesis 3:16. Part of the curse is that the woman's "desire shall be for her husband, and he shall rule over her". Now the man was the head from creation, but it was a gentle leadership, not a domination as it later became. So I am convinced now that what Jesus was saying was that, indeed, they were missing the whole point. At the resurrection, "there shall be no more curse" (Rev 22:3). The men who were asking him this question were asking who, of the seven men to whom she had been "given" in life, would she be legally obligated to marry for all eternity. Remember that they would have been speaking either Hebrew or Aramaic, which are closely related (like Latin and Italian), and not Greek, in which the conversation is recorded for us. And Jesus answered, "In the resurrection, they will neither exercise dominion nor be given in marriage. So what he is saying is not that there shall be no marital relations in heaven, but that a woman will not be given to anyone, and no one will own/dominate/master her.

Our God is a good God.

Also, note the assumption that lies behind the question: those Jews who believed in the resurrection to come took for granted that there would be marriage afterwards.

Some might object that that still leaves the part about being like the angels. But Genesis 6 tells us that the angels can, in fact, marry.

What will this marriage look like? No idea. "Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for them that love him." -- 1 Cor 2:9. But it will necessarily, like our resurrected bodies, be the perfected form of it. Any more is useless to speculate on (although it might form an enjoyable topic for pillow talk with one's beloved). Whatever it is, it will be very good.

Joe Versus the Volcano - The Door to the Universe

This is one of my favorite scenes from Joe vs. the Volcano. The fantastic song the mariachis play is a Spanish adaptation of this:

Marooned Without You

from one of my all-time favorite movies

Why is my heart marooned without you?

The sun goes down, my dreams begin their refrain

I call to whatever holds you

My beloved, I wait and I wane.

Why is my heart marooned without you?

A tiny light upon the sea.

My heart is so afraid,

You have broken away;

Tell me darling, I pray

You will come to me soon.

So my new weight-loss drug hasn't been working as well so far as the doctor and I had hoped. I think we're on the right track: addressing the real underlying issue that's caused the problem from the beginning, which is that my endocrine system is a wreck from a lifetime of chronic stress, starting with my parents' divorce and my father's remarriage (which is when I started gaining weight), and then with each subsequent rotten episode in my life piling on top. Basically, I've been stuck in fight-or-flight mode for 40+ years, which means my entire system is overworked and burnt-out from trying to sustain itself in that state. The events of last year were actually fortuitous, because they woke me up to the fact that I can't solve everything by just pushing myself harder--it's actually the exact opposite of what I need to do, and just keeps making it worse.

In addition to the stress-related hormonal disorders, there's the fact that my metabolism is totally shot from a lifetime of dieting. My father put me on my first diet when I was eight. He meant well, but he followed the advice of the time, which was calorie restriction and exercise (he signed me up for football). Which worked temporarily, but really just made things worse in the long run, and began a pattern which I've been repeating over and over since then: eat less, exercise more, lose weight. Then watch it creep back on again. Then do it again. Only every time, I have to eat less than the time before, and work harder than the time before, until literally starving myself and overworking to the point of total exhaustion and breakdown was the only thing that worked.

The really great thing about this medication is that it doesn't just cause weight loss: it works to reverse the underlying hormonal disorders--to resensitize the body to insulin and leptin and all those hormones which are supposed to regulate blood sugar, metabolism, appetite, satiety, etc., which is what is really wrong with most people with serious weight problems. So we've increased the dose, and are adding some additional meds to help out the process.

Also, the endocrinologist and weight-loss specialist thinks that the antidepressants are part of the problem, and I agree. They have a well-documented history of causing weight gain as a side-effect. And it was when I was on them for 15 years or thereabouts that I got up to 350. I'd always had some weight issues before that, but it had been a matter of being 20-30 pounds overweight, not 150. I'm not saying they're entirely responsible. But I think without them my weight problem would have been more like 50 or 75 pounds at its worst. So I've stopped them, and am waiting for them to get out of my system, and then there's one more weight-loss drug we want to add to the mix, so that we're coming at it from three different angles (plus dietary changes).

Unfortunately, going off the antidepressants means that I have feelings again. Which means, of course, that I'm thinking about Her. Not that I ever stopped, really. But there's a difference between intellectually knowing that you love and miss someone, and actually experiencing the full depth of the emotions. It's especially tough during the transitional period when the emotions are first coming back and you're not used to dealing with them anymore, which is where I am right now.

And it REALLY doesn't help that a video of her popped up on my recommendations, and I was dumb enough to watch it. I sat, enchanted, breathlessly listening to her sweet, melodious voice, which runs down into my soul like warm honey, but then burns like 180-proof whiskey. Watching all the variations of her smile: the big, open-mouthed, crinkle-eyed laugh; the modest, pursed-lips heartbreaker; the warm, grateful, toothy charmer; the mischievous, playful, twinkling grin. Gazing into her eyes, as they danced around and sparkled, and thinking about how sometimes they're bright blue-green like the Caribbean, and sometimes deep blue like the Atlantic, and sometimes  cool blue-grey like the North Sea. Admiring the gorgeous, elegant sweep of her hair, and the play of the light on it, and debating whether the wonderful things she does with braids look more like a crown or a halo. . . .

I'm a dumbass.

Air and Angels

Twice or thrice had I loved thee,
Before I knew thy face or name;
So in a voice, so in a shapeless flame,
Angels affect us oft, and worshipped be;
Still when, to where thou wert, I came,
Some lovely glorious nothing I did see.
But since my soul, whose child love is,
Takes limbs of flesh, and else could nothing do,
More subtle than the parent is,
Love must not be, but take a body too,
And therefore what thou wert, and who,
I bid Love ask, and now
That it assume thy body, I allow,
And fix itself in thy lip, eye, and brow.

Whilst thus to ballast love, I thought,
And so more steadily to have gone,
With wares which would sink admiration,
I saw, I had love's pinnace overfraught;
Every thy hair for love to work upon
Is much too much, some fitter must be sought;
For, nor in nothing, nor in things
Extreme, and scattering bright, can love inhere;
Then as an Angel, face and wings
Of air, not pure as it, yet pure doth wear,
So thy love may be my love's sphere;
Just such disparity
As is 'twixt Air and Angels' purity,
'Twixt women's love, and men's will ever be.

-- John Donne

The Scarred Princess (part 16)

Sir Perditus spent several months recovering in a goodly house nearby whose hospitality was offered him, for no one wanted to remain in the castle any more, remembering the horrors of the giant's reign. Soon the story spread abroad of his ancestry, and the portraits and records of the old kings were brought from the castle, and examined by the elders and nobles of the land. It was unanimously agreed to declare him the lost heir of their last rightful king, and to offer him his father's crown, which he took under his rightful name of Amicus VII, which was found in the records: it seemed that his mother had hidden his true identity even from himself, in order to protect him.

Viola stayed in another house nearby, but spent every possible moment with Sir Perditus, sitting in his rooms and talking, or, when he became stronger, walking through the streets of the town, or later the roads and pathways of the countryside. Every day their love and affection for each other grew, though it had not seemed possible that it could be any greater than it had been at the moment of their reunion. But there is more than one kind of love, and though the love of longing and desire had perhaps reached its peak at that moment, the love of familiarity, friendship, and affection continued to increase. Sir Perditus was filled with praise and admiration for Viola's courageous journey, and moved to tears by the love which had driven her on it, so that she almost felt ashamed to be made such a great deal of by him, knowing all that he had enacted and endured. But he would not hear of comparisons, for he said that it took more courage for her to forsake her own prison of fear than for him to face a mere giant.

And when Sir Perditus, or as we must now call him, King Amicus, was sufficiently restored to health and vigour, they were married, simply but beautifully, and they found even greater heights of happiness, love, and joy than they had yet known.

The castle was burnt and then razed to the ground, its dungeons filled in, and the place abandoned to be reclaimed by nature and cleansed by the passing of years and centuries. But first, everything that could be salvaged or reclaimed was removed from it, and everything else, starting with the giant's foul throne, was piled in the center of the great hall to be burned. King Amicus kindled the blaze with the scroll containing the oath to the usurper.

With the help of Sophie, the maid who had helped King Amicus to discover his heritage, and others whom she recommended to him as true and faithful, judgment was passed on those who had served the giant willingly and joined in his evil. All who had served him out of fear or force were pardoned, but those who had delighted in cruelty and wickedness were punished, either by exile or execution, according to the degree of their guilt. Many had fled, upon seeing or hearing of their master's demise, and bounties were placed upon them should they ever be found by any of the new king's knights, to be executed on sight, for their flight was considered admission of their guilt.

Sophie was much honoured by the new king, who elevated her to the rank of lady and granted her an estate. She became one of Queen Viola's most trusted ladies-in-waiting, and one of her dearest friends. She married a good knight with lands of his own, and their descendants came to be one of the chief families of the kingdom.


A year or so after Viola had fled from her home, her father received a letter:

King Amicus VII of Elys to our royal brother, King Angus of Alta, first of that name; Greeting! Having newly regained our rightful throne by inheritance and by conquest, and reestablished our kingdom, our wish is to convey to your Majesty our most heartfelt feelings of friendship and amity toward your royal self and toward your subjects. If it please your Majesty, our wish is furthermore to meet with you face-to-face, and to discuss the establishing of the bonds of mutual peace, friendship, and prosperity between ourselves and you, between our people and your people, and between our realm and yours. 

Also, our most beloved Queen wishes to convey through us, to you and to your Queen, the most loving and benevolent well-wishes, and hopes also to meet with your Majesties both face-to-face, along with us.

Lastly, we have news of your sometime-lost royal daughter, the Princess Viola, which, we think, you will be most eager and joyful to hear. We beg your forgiveness for not conveying said news by letter or messenger, so to sooner alleviate your distress and grief; but we think that our news is of such moment as to require our own personal delivery to your Majesties' persons. We can say, for your comfort, that we know her to be safe and in excellent health.

Awaiting most eagerly and hopefully your  loving reply,

King Amicus VII

Viola's parents read this letter with much joy, for their lives had been full of grief, regret, and trouble for the past year. The king had been so dejected as to be somewhat neglectful of his duties and this, coupled with a sense of resentment rising almost to the level of a passive rebellion among the common people, had resulted in a very bad year for the realm. Harvests were poor, taxes came up short, deliveries mysteriously disappeared, soldiers deserted...in short, the kingdom was falling apart. They replied in the affirmative immediately, and bid the messenger return to his lord and lady with all haste, and tell them that they were most eager for their visit.

Great was the joy and many the tears, when the royal visitation arrived soon after, and the visiting queen was revealed to be Viola herself. All was forgiven on all sides, for all could see now how happy and blessed their beloved princess was in the love of the new King. Except that King Amicus offered to prove upon the body the falsity of any man who dared to say that his Queen was, or ever had been bewitched, and Sir Ictis suddenly and mysteriously disappeared, never to be seen in that land again. The return of Queen Viola restored both the joy and hope of her parents, and the faith and love of the people for their king, and the next year and the ones after were marked by ever-increasing prosperity and happiness.

But the visit of Amicus and Viola was the occasion of one further joy: for it was now, by chance or by providence, that Viola's lost brother finally returned as well. He had been away on crusade in a far distant land, and had there established for himself his own kingdom, marrying a princess of that land, and they had come to let his parents see their first grandchild, a beautiful, healthy baby boy. The Prince abdicated his claim to his father's throne, which then passed to his sister, and which she inherited some years later on her father's passing. She ruled alongside her husband with great wisdom and kindness, for the people loved her as dearly as good children love a kind and wise mother.

The two realms grew in mutual peace and prosperity. Roads were built and trade established, and the waste land between them was peopled over time, until eventually the two became one large kingdom, which was ruled wisely by the descendants of Amicus and Viola for many generations. And the arms of that house ever after bore the blazons of the star and the rose.

THE END

The Scarred Princess (part 15)

For seven days, Sir Perditus refused his food and prayed, though he did accept a little water. In his already weakened state, the lack of nourishment might have killed him, but the strength and warmth of the holy draught was still in him, and he felt both weaker and stronger at once. He was not sure if it had been a little more or a little less than a week that he had stayed in the giant's guest chamber and eaten sumptuously, but he thought that his self-imposed penance would be sufficient even so, for it was an act of voluntary devotion and not of atonement or penal satisfaction.

At the end of the seven-day fast, he called for the gaoler when he heard him moving about outside, and asked him to send a message to his lord: "Tell him that I am ready to swear," he said, and the soldier hastened away in much excitement, eager to earn favour for himself by being the bearer of pleasing news.

Soon after, the giant himself appeared. He was all smiles and politeness, but he could not hide his smug self-satisfaction that his designs had succeeded.

"So, you have found the course of wisdom, at last, Sir Knight?" he said.

"I have," answered Sir Perditus.

"Good! Very good indeed. I will make preparations for a public assembly, for I wish all my subjects, whom you will henceforth rule under me, to witness this oath. I think the hall is not sufficient: I shall have them assemble at the tourney field."

"Indeed, that is the very thing I would desire. And I have one further request: I must swear on my own sword, which I will then offer to my Lord in perpetual service."

"Yes! It is fitting. It shall be as you ask." And without further discussion, the giant turned and left. But soon after, soldiers came and escorted Sir Perditus back to his guest's chamber, where he bathed and dressed in clean garments, although he still refused sustenance, saying that he must keep vigil as became a good knight.

The word went out, and everyone who was within a day's travel was compelled to attend. People had come by foot, horse, and carriage, and the stands and berfrois were much more crowded than they had been on the day of the fight. So nobody noticed when an unknown and rather odd-looking young esquire joined the crowd, slipped into the audience, and found a seat at the very front, nearest the lists.

The giant had set up his throne in the midst of the field, and sat on it looking immensely self-satisfied. The herald (the same who had approached Sir Perditus on the road), stood forth and read the oath in a loud voice:

"The sometime recreant knight, styling himself Sir Perditus, having been overcome by His Gargantuan Majesty, the great and noble King Sarx, in fair combat, is prepared to renounce all former allegiances; to recant his errors; and to publickly acknowledge himself lawfully defeated. Most especially, he repudiates service to the so-called "Grail King", and names him base and cowardly false lord. Also, he repudiates the Princess Viola, and names her Vixen and False Jade. He furthermore renounces and abdicates all right or claim to any title, lordship, office, land, or property accruing to him by inheritance, descent, or right. Finally, he swears perpetual and unimpeachable fealty to His Majesty, King Sarx, and offers his sword, his body, and his life to His Majesty's service."

As these words were read, dead quiet fell on the crowd. And if anyone had taken care to notice, an expression of the uttermost horror and despair came over the face of the unknown squire in the front row.

Sir Perditus was then led out, flanked by a guard of the giant's chief knights. But at his appearance, which was haggard, piteous, wasted, and pale, a single low gasp caught his ear and, looking up, he saw the young esquire, holding a rose. He was fooled for a single moment by his own garb, but then his eyes met hers, and he knew. He was so surprised that he almost cried out, but managed to restrain himself. He tried to convey to her comfort and assurance in a look and a very slight nod, and he thought he might have succeeded, for her expression changed from horror and disbelief to anxiety and anticipation.

The knight and his guard marched to the foot of the giant's throne, and there he knelt, grasping the hilt of his own sword, which lay across the giant's knees; his father's and grandfather's sword he knew not how far back, and he felt as though it welcomed his touch. He even thought he might have seen a flash of light from the great sapphire set in the pommel, but it may have just been reflected sunlight. The herald spoke again.

"Do you, Sir Perditus, swear to His Gargantuan Majesty King Sarx, according to all that has been here written and read?" He held out the scroll, which had been prepared according to law and custom, for his signature and seal upon swearing the oath.

"I swear," said Sir Perditus, and he gripped the sword-hilt tightly, and spoke in a loud, clear voice which belied his appearance of wasted weakness. "I swear that the so-called King Sarx is a False King, a Tyrant, an Usurper, a Thief, and a Murderer." He looked into the giant's eyes, which were wide with shock. "I swear that my service and devotion to the True King, the Grail King, is unbroken and unbreakable, and that I shall serve him with my sword, my strength, and all my heart until my last breath and beyond. Though he slay me himself, yet shall I serve him." At this point he felt the giant grip the blade of the sword hard. "I swear that my love for the Fair and Virtuous Princess Viola is true and eternal, and second only to my love for my lord, the Grail King." He had expected the giant to stand and struggle, but whether he was paralyzed with shock and outrage, or whether some other force held him bound, he did not move. "And I lastly swear that I shall run this very sword through the heart of this vile and despicable fiend, at this very moment, or shall die in the attempt!" He stoood, and pulled with all his might and the might of the sacred draught which ran through his veins, and the giant's hands were cut so that blood spurted out and several fingers fell to the ground. Sir Perditus looked his enemy in the eye, and he saw terror: he knew he was about to die, and he was afraid. He held up his maimed hands as if to ward off the blow or to beg for mercy, but there was none to be had for him. Sir Perditus raised his father's sword and plunged it straight into the giant's cruel and wicked heart, with such force that the point exited the monster's back several inches, and he slumped in his chair, slid slowly down, and fell dead at the good knight's feet. The blood ran out so that the shoes of the victor and all who stood near were covered to the tops. Perditus stooped and withdrew his sword from the corpse, then looked around at the herald and the guards.

"Does anyone wish to object?" he asked. The guards bowed and backed away, and the herald turned and fled. There was a moment of breathless silence. Then the eldest of the assembled knights on the field drew his sword, turned it about, knelt, and offered it to Sir Perditus. At this, a deafening cheer went up from the assembled people who, as one, rose to their feet in approbation, gratitude, and joy as the realization sank in that they were free of the evil under which they had been oppressed for so long.

But Sir Perditus had no ears nor eyes for any but his Love. He briefly grasped the hilt of the offered sword, laid his hand on the knight's shoulder, and restored it to its owner. Then he moved as quickly as he could to where he had seen the eyes which haunted his dreams. He could not find her at first, in the chaos and confusion of the joyful crowd. But then, there she was. She had removed her helmet, and her golden hair fell down around her shoulders. Her eyes were bright aquamarine, and glowed with joy, love, and admiration so that they outshone the sun in the sky, and tears ran in streams down her soft, fair cheeks. She held out her arms and Sir Perditus ran to her, lifted her over the list, and held her waist with one arm while the other hand cradled the back of her head, his fingers in her beautiful hair. And then he kissed her, and she returned his kiss, and in that moment, they touched the Love that is the driving pulse of the entire universe; their spirits sang with the music of the spheres, and their hearts danced with the movements of the celestials. In that moment, Sir Perditus was glad that he had suffered all that he had suffered, for this one moment was worth all of it and more. Indeed, he could have wished to suffer more for her, if it had been possible, for the height, and depth, and breadth of his love for her was endless.