Buzzards, Hawks and Ravens

(Account of Six Friends' Lives in the "Dark" Ages)

by

Ruwen Rouhs

Chapter 15.1

- The Prince-Bishop’s Birthday –

- Roses without Thorns –

At the first morning call of the redstart Jaco the Reed was wide awake. He didn’t even have to rub the sleep out of his eyes. Today was the official birthday of the Prince-Bishop Count Casmir d´Ogmont. But this day was more, much more. It was the birthday of the man who had adopted him.

The full moon of the evening before had gone and through a crack in the window shutter Jaco could catch the first rays of the rising sun. Jaco listened into the dark. The steady breathing of his big friend and guardian announced that Marti was still sleeping like a log in the next room.

Jaco knew he could count on Marti in every respect. The big mercenary always knew what to do. Yesterday evening for example, when Jaco pussyfooted round his reading friend, he looked up “What’s up young man? Still not tired? Its bedtime for His Majesty! Tomorrow will be a tiring day for a prince!”

After walking round Marti several times more Jaco finally dared to ask “Marti, when you were a boy what did you give your father for birthday?”

The big Italian mercenary grinned and started teasing Jaco “I didn’t know you father is coming to His Excellency’s party tomorrow to celebrate his birthday. Didn’t you tell me that back in Quentisburry you used to be  an orphan?”

“Stupid! You know what will happen tomorrow! Tomorrow CCdO will announce to the public that from now on I am his son!”

Knitting his brow and taking hold of the circling boy “Difficult question my little Majesty Prince Jaco d´Ogmont! My father was just a simple mercenary like me. He would have been pleased enough with a new pennon or a bright ribbon for his horse. But His Excellency has everything, just everything I can think off! He owns a silvery suit of amour for jousts and a iron one for battles! He’s got a great stallion. He has a fistful of gold and silver. He has just about every thing! Sorry my Reedy, I just don’t know!”

“And if you had somebody you really love, what would you give him for a present, Marti?” he looked at the mercenary pleadingly, “Come on Marti! Please help me.”

“For a boyfriend a colored ribbon for his lance would fit or a plume for his helmet. And for a girlfriend? I would buy her a bracelet of silver or gold. However if I didn’t have any money I would steal for her! I would steal roses for her! Red roses! Than I would sneak up behind her, give her a kiss and shower her with roses petals!”

That was it! Roses! Jaco beamed. CCdO loved flowers, especially roses. He hugged his big friend, turned right away and went to sleep with shining eyes.

Now the call of the redstart told him it was time get up and pick the roses. Jaco knew exactly where! In his birthday suit he slipped out from under the warm duvet, tiptoed to the door, then along the dark corridor to the winding staircase leading to the backdoor of the palace. Even at daytime he tried to avoid the dark and draughty staircase. Especially since Peter and Paul had told him about the lurking ghosts. During the night the icy staircase was even scarier. It was pitch-dark. Before he was  halfway down the stairs goose pimples were all over his body. He tried to whistle away his fear, but then remembered that he didn’t want to be heard or seen and he put his hand over his mouth.

With chattering teeth he bumped into the backdoor. He rattled at the closed door. It was closed and secured by a bolt. Looking for another way through he discovered a small window left of the door, which seemed just wide enough to accommodate his small frame. To his disappointment it was cross-barred. Jaco tried to slide back the heavy oaken bolt with all the force he could muster. But in vain he couldn’t move it even an inch. Just when he was about to turn back he found a pole beside the door and was able to lever up the bolt.

Jaco slipped out into the garden and began to search the shrubs along the wall of the palace for roses in full bloom. But the thorny twigs of the dog roses were covered with rose buds only. Hurrying along he was sure he had spotted dark red roses in the garden the day before. But where? Then he remembered. The statue of Mother Mary with Baby Jesus behind the chapel was nearly overgrown by a bush covered by big roses with glowing red petals and yellow stamens. While he ran along the path to the niche with the statue he remembered the words of Friar Anselmus, his favorite teacher. “These are peonies! But people call these roses St. Mary’s roses or Roses without Thorns!” looking at his student smiling, “Can you imagine why, Jaco? These roses are called holy not because of their beauty, but because their seeds cure nightmares, epilepsy, lunacy and many, many other diseases!” Reedy’s heart jumped for joy. He knew these roses would make the perfect present for his dear new father! They will shelter him from nightmares. Yes they will!

Carefully Jaco gathered a dozens of the precious flowers, asking Mother Mary for forgiveness for the theft. Running back he inhaled the scent of the blossoms. It made him grin with delight “They don’t smell like common roses, but sweet as honey and fresh as lemons.” and his happiness outshone the sun rising up behind the mountaintops.

St. Mary’s Roses

The bunch of flowers pressing against his breast, Jaco rushed back up the icy staircase. At the entrance of Prince-Bishop Casmir’s office he listened for the night guards and then tiptoed across the room to CCd’O’s small bedroom. Without a noise he opened the bedroom door, crept up to the small four poster bed and pulled aside the curtain obstructing the morning light coming through the window.

CCdO, the Prince-Bishop, was sleeping curled up like a baby up to his ears under a featherbed. Only his nose was sticking out. As he did not respond either to the grey morning light, nor the fragrant scent of the St. Mary’s roses, nor to Jaco’s nudges, Jaco began to hum a song he had learned from an old maid in Quentisburry. He loved the hynm but he only knew it in the language of common people. And he began to sing the Sunegsang quietly:

Höchste allmächtige, güetige Herr,

a Der sind s Lob, de Ruhm, ale Sege und d Ehr!

Nume Der, Allerhöchste, stönd die zue

und kan Mensch isch würdig Di z erwähne.

Most high, all-powerful, all good, Lord!

All praise is yours, all glory, all honor and blessing.

To you alone, Most High, do they belong.

No mortal lips are worthy to pronounce your name.

CCdO still didn’t move. Jaco began to sing slightly louder at each line:

Globt saisch, min Herr, mit all Dinene Gschöpf

und ganz bsundrigs d Herrin d Schwöster Sune;

si isch Tag und lüchtet för üs dur Di

si isch schöö und straalet mit grossem Glanz,

Dini Bidütig, Allerhöchste, bezügt si.

All praise be yours, my Lord, through all that you have made,

And first my lord Brother Sun,

Who brings the day; and light you give to us through him.

How beautiful is he, how radiant in all his splendor!
Of you, Most High, he bears the likeness.

Finally Jaco forgot all his fear and he began to praise the moon and the sun and the stars from the bottom of his heart:

Globt saisch, min Herr, dur Brüeder Moo und d Sterne;

im Himmel hesch si gmacht, klar und chöstlich und schöö.

Globt saisch, min Herr, dur Brüeder Wind;

und dur Luft und Wolke, Haiteri und all Wetter,

dur si gisch Dinene Gschöpf Unterstützig.

Globt saisch, min Herr, dur Schwöster Wasser;

si isch ganz nützlich und demüetig und chöstlich und koisch.

All praise be yours, my Lord, through Sister Moon and Stars;

In the heavens you have made them, bright and precious and fair.

All praise be yours, my Lord, through Brothers Wind and Air,
And fair and stormy, all the weather's moods,

By which you cherish all that you have made.

All praise be yours, my Lord, through Sister Water

So useful, lowly, precious, and pure.

All of a sudden the Prince-Bishop began to toss and turn. He muttered quietly, too quiet to make out the words. Only one word was clear to Jaco “Tristam, Tristam, my Tristam”, the name of CcdO’s childhood friend!

Globt saisch, min Herr, dur Brüeder Füür;

dur en erhellsch Du d Nacht;

und er isch schöö und fröhlich, chräftig und starch.

Globt saisch, min Herr, dur üsi Schwöster Muetter Erde;

si versorgt und laitet üs,

und si macht allerlai Frücht und farbigi Blueme und Chrüter.

All praise be yours, my Lord, through Brother Fire,

Through whom you brighten up the night.

How beautiful he is, how gayl Full of power and strength.

All praise be yours, my Lord, through Sister Earth, our mother,

Who feeds us in her sovereignty and produces

Various fruits and colored flowers and herbs.

All of sudden the Prince-Bishop was sitting upright in his bed. He tried to foccus on the boy in front of him. “Is it you my Tristam? Is it you my dear? Are you finally coming to get me?”

Jaco’s hair stood on end! His teeth chattered and his whole body shuddered in fear. Screwing up his courage he continued to sing, quivering a bit with his eyes staring:

Globt saisch, min Herr, dur die wo vergend mit Dinere Liebi

und wo Chranket und Liide erträget.

Selig die, wos i Fride überwinde chönet,

denn dur Di, Allerhöchste, werdet si gchrönet.

Globt saisch, min Herr, dur üse Brüeder Körper-Tod;

von em cha kan lebige Mensch entwiiche.

All praise be yours, my Lord, through those who grant pardon

For love of you; through those who endure Sickness and trial.

Happy those who endure in peace, By you, Most High, they will be crowned.

All praise be yours, my Lord, through Sister Death,

From whose embrace no mortal can escape.

Then a deep voice joined in. It blended perfectly with Jaco´s boyish one. But the words were different. While Jaco was singing in the language of the common people Casmir Count d´Ogmont used Latin.

Weh dene, wo i d Todsünd sterbet!

Selig die, wo Din hailigste Wile findet,

denn de zwaiti Tod verderbt si nöd.

Lobet und priiset min Herr,

und danket und dienet Em i grosse Demuet!

Guai acquelli, ke morrano ne le peccata mortali:

beati quelli ke trovarà ne le tue sanctissime voluntati,

ka la morte secunda nol farra male.

Laudate et benedicete mi signore,

et rengratiate et serviateli cum grande humilitate.

Woe to those who die in mortal sinl

Happy those She finds doing your will!

The second death can do no harm to them.

Praise and bless my Lord, and give him thanks,

And serve him with great humility.

At the end of the hymn the Archbishop wrapped his arms tightly around the boy, “Jaco. Reedy, my little dear son, come closer! You and St. Francis` Canticle of the Creatures rescued me. This song and you, “ pausing a moment. “and the Roses without Thorns have finally overcome my nightmares!” Hugging Jaco, “You are cold Jaco! Goose pimples are all over your skin.” And he pulled the ice-cold boy into his bed. He held the boy tight and they slept till the bells announced the morning service.

*.*.*

AUTHOR NOTE

I would like to express my special thanks to Anthony Camacho for doing an unbelievable great job by correcting all the wrong expressions and the punctuation used by a non native English writer.