10:30 AM, The Reliquary at the Carmelite Convent

“What are you up to?”

Rose jumped, she had a book out and was reading. Not reading as much as she was looking at the pictures, she could read a little, but certainly not this old English hand written, illuminated manuscript. The ancient volume told the story of Saint Ostric with beautifully detailed drawings.

Although she couldn’t read the text, Rose filled in the missing pieces of the story in her head, based on what she had heard by word of mouth and from the pictures in the book.

The tale described how the Monk had visions of a battle between an angel and a demon here in Chester and of his support of the holy and righteous King Aethelred. She was admiring the illumination of the King and the monk standing before the demon emerging from a chasm in the ground when the librarian, Sister Madeline surprised her.

"I was just looking.”

“We are caretakers, not readers.”

“Sister, I have completed my chores and I just thought…”

“My dear, Mother Maria decided that you were to work here, not me. I do not need nor do I want your help,” said Sister Madeline.

“Is it not our responsibility to know the location of all the tomes, that they are kept in good condition and have some general knowledge of the contents?” asked Rose.

“No, you are to be obedient, just as I am. Our superior has instructed that we are to work together and as I am librarian, I require you to tidy the place. Then you can sit and pray for guidance from the Holy Spirit,” said the elderly French nun.

That meant fall asleep, like Sister Madeline did.

Rose resisted the old nun’s authority and didn’t know why she couldn’t read rather than sit and pray. “I just thought…”

“I just thought… I just thought, I would spend my days in devotion at the convent in Arles, but we were all sent here, along with that box,” said Sister Madeline pointing at the wooden box in the glass case.

“Yes, Sister,” Rose whispered sullenly as she closed the tome and set it back on the book rest in front of the relic case.

“The dusting in this place is never done. Make your best work of it, Sister,” said Sister Madeline

Rose went to the shelves and began dusting the books. As she went about her work, she looked at the spines. Some she could read, others she could not, but even those she could not made her wonder about the tales within. Some of the books were treatises, the work of theologians trying to understand the human condition and interaction with the spiritual world.

This was most of her day, tidying and organizing the books, waiting for when Sister Madeline would doze off in her chair. Then she would pull a book off the shelves and read or look at the pictures.

Sister Madeline jerked awake, almost falling out of her chair. Her own snoring had likely wakened her. Rose smiled to herself and quickly stuffed the book back in the stack.

“I am going to check on Sister Anne in the kitchen,” said Sister Madeline, standing up and making her way to the door.

Rose went to the table where Sister Madeline had been sitting and pushed the chair into the table. She then walked back to the cabinet where the book and relic were kept.

Rose stood before the glass cabinet. In the past, when the cabinet was opened and the box moved, it was under the direction of the bishop. Rose looked around to be certain that Sister Madeline was gone. With the glass door opened she carefully worked the lid off the old case. She wondered when the last time was that someone had opened it. She was careful to not damage the box, but the top was snug, and she worried she would break something in her urgency to get the box open.

With the top opened, she peered inside and was shocked to discover a skull gilded in silver; the cranium was open and replaced by a crystal dome allowing the observer to see into the skull. Inside it was a collection of other bones, maybe finger bones, pieces of fabric and feathers. The artifact seemed too large, but who was she to know how big a skull should be.

Reaching in, Rose lifted the skull out of the box. She thought the whole idea of preserving a man’s skull a bit savage and un-Catholic but here she was holding a dead saint’s remains. She placed the relic back in the box and in the process pricked her finger on the sharp nose bridge of St. Ostric. She reacted by sticking her fingertip in her mouth to stem the blood flow. As the iron taste of her blood hit her tongue, she felt a swoon overtaking her. Her head spun, and she felt as if she was falling.

She did not hit the ground, however. Someone caught her mid-way and steadied her. Rose turned to see a man dressed in monk’s robes standing next to her. His deep blue eyes were piercing yet warm. He had an aura about him that spoke of more than being a simple monk. He had a regal air and he held himself erect.

From the shadows that formed behind him, a slice of golden light split the darkness. Rose’s senses told her that the light was connected to the infinite as from out of the light walked a golden-maned lion of immense size. She heard the heavy padding of the beast’s feet hitting the floor as she looked back to the wild man who had helped her.

He just nodded, and when she turned back, the animal was gone and in its place was a form, human-like yet twice the size of even a large man. It was adorned in billowing robes that floated and flowed as if suspended in flowing water. The fabric of the robes streamed endlessly behind the figure, connecting it with the golden light piercing the shadows.

The figure addressed the young nun. Rose listened in awe but could not understand a word of the strange language.

At that moment the regal man spoke, “You have been chosen by Ariel the Arch-Angel, the lion of God. If you respond to the call you to will one day speak the tongue of the Enochian.”

“I don’t understand, what did he say? Who are you? What…” said Rose, as she felt the blood from her finger trickle down her hand. She looked down to see a drop falling to the floor. Her vision was focused and telescoped onto the bead of blood that dripped from her hand as it fell to the floor.

It happened in silent slow motion, its shape and color clear and sharp as it fell. It hit the floor and splashed, and the world crashed back in around her with the sound of the ocean smashing against a cliff.

She was back in the Reliquary, alone in the still silent room. On the ground at her feet another drop of her blood dripped onto the old stone. There was nothing to confirm her vision or what she had heard.

Rose stuck her injured finger in her mouth again and this time the world stayed in place. She sucked the blood and realized she needed to be quick. She took her handkerchief from her pocket and mopped up the blood on the floor then wrapped it round her hand before quickly closing up the relic box and the cabinet to hide any evidence that she had touched the holy object making sure there was no blood on either.