#55.10, Tues., April 23, 2024

Historical Setting, 629 C.E. Vosges Mts.

         It is a brutal necessity just now to make a plan and to find a way to keep Layla safe. In fact, if we hide her away, we probably need to chain her to that safe place, because she is so likely to escape and run right back into the arms of the husband who beats her.

         Ana has encouraged her to accept our help.

         Layla argues, “If I stay with you, I won’t be safe, you know that Momma, and no one here will be safe either.  If Will comes plundering in a rage some dark night he will go first to the farm and Haberd’s children will be in danger. Haberd can’t fight such as man as he. Then he will come down here and who would fight him here?  Papa won’t fight. He always chooses what he calls ‘peace’ even if violence comes to him with fists and blades slashing away. And Brandell’s not much of a fighting man either.”

         Ana answers, “Greg and Gaillard will surely make themselves available and of course they will keep watch over your safety; you are Greg’s little sister.”

         “Of course, Momma. I should be grateful that my pacifist family can wrap me up in a constant vigil of soldiers forever and ever.”

         “It is just until the danger passes.”

         “And when will that be, Momma? Is the danger passed when there are two who need to be watched over when I am rocking his baby? Or will I be safe when he is weakened with age, in about fifty years and then all he could do to me is spit and rage. How long will it take?”

         Outside we’ve been listening to Gaia’s story and we’ve seen this particular darkness through the blind eyes from another who knows it well. There is no universal healing potion for this. There is no commonality among abusers for a healer to simply make up an elixir. If any healing were possible, it would have to be found in the depths of the abuser’s own ability for empathy, and the empathy of the abuser may be deeply obscured by his belief that rage is power. In his mind the powerless must rage.

         It is easy to brush off the command to “love your enemy,” but really that is all we can do, and obviously, love for this man’s wild and senseless tirades is not what a loving God would ask of Layla.

(Continues tomorrow)

#55.9, Thurs., April 18, 2024

Historical Setting, 629 C.E. Vosges

         The jagged edges of relationship are gnawing at our whole family just now, and Layla is in danger. I listen to Gaia’s own story and I realize this really isn’t something to put aside or pretend away. I would have thought a blind woman could be shielded for pity’s sake.

         “Papa Lazarus, I wasn’t born blind. It happened when I was still nearly an infant, so I don’t remember. But my mother told me things.  She said when she was first wed, my pater had some failings and he hated himself. First, she thought love would fix him, but he was truly a mad man.

         “So, my mater hid her bride’s money away planning when I was old enough, we could buy horses and she would ride away with me.  Mater said that Pater believed hurting whatever he loved most would hurt himself, and it was himself he hated.

         “Then, once when he was in a rage, he grabbed me up and shook me and that was how I became blind.  It was terrible for him because he loved me. He said he would never rage again. But he was a mad man.

         “Whenever he saw how I was broken he just hated himself all the more, and for a mad man, hurting what you love is a way of hurting yourself.

         “He told me my mother died from a fall on the steps. But I know how she died.  Since I was already broken, I guess he didn’t love me enough to hurt me anymore, so in that mad way, I was safe. I took my mater’s job tending the market booth, keeping her horse money hidden away always a secret from him but always a hope for me.

         “Then Brandell came, and Brandell thought my pater was a master artist and teacher and he listened to everything Pater said. He tried so hard to please my pater but I could see that the more Brandell was kind to him, the more dangerous Pater would become. My pater had no imagination for happiness, so if there ever was any kind of goodness or love in our house, his raging self, caused him to destroy it just to keep himself hurting as he thought he deserved.

         “I told Brandell we had to leave. I used my mater’s runaway money and bought us our horses.

         “Maybe Brandell will make a verse for this song of us, because it is a love story. And love is all pain and, when sane and right, all joy—poetic paradox.”

(Continues Tuesday, April 23)

#55.8, Weds., April 17, 2024

Historical Setting, 629 C.E. Vosges

         “We’ll have to find a place where you are safe here.” Ana tells Layla.

         “I know my husband will be fine tomorrow when it’s a new day. He will say he is sorry and everything will be fine again.”

         “No Layla.”

         “Papa, I’m a married woman now. Hannah took me to the nuns because she isn’t a wife and doesn’t understand men.”

         I argue, “She has the same brothers and father as you; surely her judgment of men is as worthy as yours. Has marriage only taught you pain and hurt?”

         “Sometimes Will is nice to me, Papa. And as my family for example, only you and Haberd have wives, and neither of you manages them well.”

         “’Manages?’ I’m pretty sure your mother won’t agree with you about that. But I can tell you, I do ‘manage’ creatures as you say– and it isn’t people. I manage mules, chickens, bees and critters, but not my wife. And with any living thing at all, even if it were only goats and mules, managing never requires fists or violence. A wife isn’t just some critter on a farm, a wife is a partner in the family.  You know that, Layla. I mean, look at you!  You share this man’s child!”

         Now, here are her tears. “You don’t understand, Papa.” Now she takes her tears to make her plea to her mother.

         Gaia, Brandell, Hannah and I come out of the creek cottage so Layla can talk alone with Ana. Hannah’s been listening to all this. “Papa, you aren’t very respectful of the choice for husband she has made.”

         “How can I possibly respect a choice that puts the life of her and her baby in danger?”

         Now I feel sorry, in a way, that Gaia and Brandell, an innocent and loving couple, has to see this problem right in the midst of their own dreams.

         “Gaia, may you never have to discover this roughened side of Merovingian Gaul in this warring land where violence is perceived as a source of strength and love is a weakness.”

         That was my attempt to apologize to Gaia for this whole brutish way of thinking that must seem so foreign to her.  I fear Layla’s husband isn’t the only Gaulish oaf who would abuse animals then apply that same variety of violence to his wife.

         “Papa Lazarus,” Gaia says, “this problem is far and wide. It isn’t just thugs, or oafish farmers of Gaul. I know of it also.”

(Continues tomorrow)


#55.7, Tues., April 16, 2024

Historical Setting, 629 C.E. Vosges

         As everyone was working with every frivolous detail for the wedding feast, Greg brings Layla here, affirming my worst worry.

         Greg tells us that it was hardly a secret that Layla was hidden by the nuns after Hannah found she had been beaten by her husband. So, of course the oaf went in search of her.

         Greg brought her here so we can protect her and the child she is carrying by hiding her from the man who believes he legally owns her. Greg told us when the thug discovered Layla was gone because he had no one to prepare him his gruel, he filled his emptiness with the last drops of ale from a keg. This is the fellow who complained about the menu at our own family feast!

         Greg said, “He was quite drunk by the time he went looking for his wife, and,” in his most polite way to save Layla from hearing it, “he was disrespectful of the sacred halls of the monastery. 

         “After his indiscretion in the halls where the monks have their cells, he took himself over to the convent. This fellow was grunting and roaring, and making no intelligible human sound which was probably a good thing, since no one wanted to hear the human words that would suit his mood. Gaillard and I were in the monk’s guest quarters so when we heard the ruckus, we went out into the halls with swords drawn thinking a boar or a bear from the forests had wandered in. 

         “He was heading toward the convent, crossing through the courtyard when we saw it was Layla’s husband looking for his wife. The nuns were terrified, barring the doors and shuttering the windows.

         Gaillard and I had to take control of him by threatening him with our swords, then we took him at sword point before the Abbot. The Abbot told Will his wife wouldn’t be at the convent anymore, so he was never to come back there. And now Gaillard is taking drunken Will home, while I have Layla here in need of a safe place to stay.”

         Layla whimpers, “I’m sorry, Papa, Momma. I know he will come after me here too. I’m so sorry to bring this trouble here. If I just go back to him when he is sober there won’t be any more trouble. It has happened before; I know he will be sorry when he wakes up tomorrow.”

          “No” Ana tells her, “You can’t go back to him.”

(Continues tomorrow)

#55.6, Thurs., April 11, 2024

Historical Setting, 629 C.E. Vosges

         Brandell and I came to this wood to cut a clearing and now I learn he also plans to make a little house here. He knows I’m pretty particular about how thatch is laid. When it is done badly there are endless leaks and mold. So apparently, Brandell just decided to ask me to teach him from the start so he won’t have to hear me complaining every time I come to make repairs. I know there are so many more important things to think about in the world now, even within my own family. So maybe the art of thatch is just my favorite worry because I can control it. 

         The grasses in this end of the creek are abundant and fine quality and Brandell’s gift is working with his hands, so this little project should come along very well with two of us on it.

         Gaia has been spending these days with Ana while we are working on  this secret gift house.  Ana’s teacher who raised her from a young child was also blind, so Ana is sensitive to Gaia’s limitations but also knows her abilities. Carding wool is not for Gaia, but spinning is good because the quality of the yarn is determined by fingers knowing the feel of the strand.  When we return after our work Gaia is working with the spindle. I asked if Ana was asking too much of Gaia. But both women disagreed.

         Gaia has a plan for preparing the clearing using this spool of wool. She knows nothing of a house there, but she wants all the wedding guests to find their places in a circle of yarn she will weave among the trees. Then at the wedding, she herself can follow the string all around the edge of the clearing and meet with each of the guests without the need for a guide.

         So, all Brandell has to do to surprise her with the little house is to splice its doorway right into her guide line. Just when she thinks she knows the places for everything at the wedding feast, she will follow her guiding yarn and suddenly, there will be the little house! We are all having fun whispering and planning all these preparations and I wish I could say that was all I had to think about.

         But as we are just sitting down at table to eat, Greg rides in from Luxeuil with Layla sharing his horse.

(Continues Tuesday, April 16)

#55.5, Weds., April 10, 2024

Historical Setting, 629 C.E. Vosges

         Hannah asked for a prayer. And I can only trust in the peaceful alternatives, the forgiveness and the ‘love of enemy’. Now I pray silently, “Dear God, lead me from this temptation to bring hurt onto this man who has hurt my child.” I add aloud, “Guide us in love and peace going forward. So be it.”

         “Papa. I like that part about ‘going forward’ because we need to.”

         But it is so tempting right now to make a plan to cause this man to suffer. Only Hell has room for this hatred. But I’m not sure which soul is harrowed up from the dirge of this — his or mine. Somehow, I have to continue in God’s way of love, or I will be nothing but the same brutish oaf as he.

         Mater Doe gave permission to make a clearing for the feasting and the dancing behind the church.  I’ve offered to help Brandell with the work of it, so we take our axes and blades, and Haberd’s farm mule back to that place.  Brandell wants to cut the saplings low from the root and now he is laying the longest greenwood aside in a particular bundle.

         “Are you saving these for something?”

         “I was just thinking, Papa, how beautiful is this little woods. Wouldn’t this be a fine place to make a little round house of thatch?”

         “Is Gaia complaining about sleeping in the loft with your nieces and nephew and anyone else who comes to visit?”

         “Gaia is never one to complain. She hasn’t mentioned that.”

         “Did you ask Mater Doe if she wants a near neighbor?”

         “It was Mater Doe who thought of it. She told me I needed to make a house for a bride if I wanted a proper wedding. And she said she would welcome a neighbor.”

         “Are you going to tell Gaia of this plan or just surprise her with her tiny house of sticks way out here two miles from everyone else?”

         “You make it sound terrible Papa. But I think it might be a welcome surprise for her because while we journeyed, she often sat with the women who were weaving things to put into their own new little houses.  The women were sharing their plans for their lives in new homes and no one was spinning dreams of sleeping in a loft with someone else’s children.

(Continues tomorrow)

#55.4, Tues., April 9, 2024

Historical Setting, 629 C.E. Vosges

         Hannah just came back from her visit to see Layla. Nothing of her report puts our worries to rest.

         “Papa, Momma, we were right to worry. Layla has bruises. It will be several months more before the baby is born and her husband makes no secret of the cause for the bruises.  He says he needs a boy who is tough.”

      I say, “We all know he is a raging idiot.”

         Ana adds, “Layla’s known that all along.”

         Hannah says, “And yet she says she is the cause of his wrath.”

         “How can she blame herself?” Ana begs.

         “She said, herself, that he mistakes her docile nature for being weak and malleable. And when she shows strength and doesn’t break, he does. He breaks into ruthless rage.”

         I know, “I know that is the way of Layla. She keeps her core of strength deep and hidden. But it’s no cause for his anger. The blame needs to be on him.”

         Ana wonders, “Now what can we do to rescue Layla and her baby?”

          “This is my fault, I know, I should have been here.”

         “You didn’t have that choice, Laz,” Ana says, “And it is their baby. You can’t do anything as her Papa, except welcome her home if she should come here. That was all we could ever do.”

         Hannah tells us now that she has already taken Layla to be safe with the nuns at Luxeuil. “The nuns have seen this before.” She adds, “But you know, Papa, Layla has a bent for wandering. She won’t follow the restrictions of the monastery, so I promised her she would always be welcome home.”

         “Of course,” I know, “But this brings the danger to both of you and maybe even to Haberd’s family.”

         Ana wonders, “How is her own family not her safe place?”

         “You know her husband will follow after her on a tirade and everyone in his way will be in danger.”

         Hannah reiterates that she is pretty sure her little sister won’t stay at the monastery.     

          “You know your sister well.”

         “Papa, don’t you have prayer words to say aloud for this? I would expect to hear your prayers.”

         I was holding this in silence, “Dear God, thank you for Hannah’s gifts, and for this family. Help us be caring, courageous creative and understanding. Amen.”

(Continues tomorrow)

#55.3, Thurs., April 4, 2024

Historical Setting, 629 C.E. Vosges Mts.

         I’ve shared my concern about Layla with her sister Hannah, who is a medical practitioner.

         Hannah offers, “Papa, this is what I will do. I’ll take the donkey cart and the medical kit and go there to those new barely patches around the walls of aristocracy where the serfs farm. And just like any worthy practitioner of medicine I will call on a woman who is with child. I will listen to her belly for the thump of life and I will brew her a tea for the morning sickness. Of course, my visit can’t be seen as a spying mission on her husband. But if I should notice anything amiss, I will remind her that her own family is always a safe haven.”

         “Thank you, Hannah. That’s all we can do now.”

         So, with the marriage of our youngest our greatest worry, our second youngest, the poet and artist, is quite the opposite.  He’s just returned from a perilous journey to help rescue a Jewish tribe from persecution and now he is here with a new talent and a wonderful partner, Gaia.

         Gaia and Brandell are, right now, making plans with Mater Doe at the secular church to speak their marriage vows to one another up there.  Having a Mater for a Pater doesn’t worry Gaia at all. This deaf priest and she enjoy talking long and loud of their common homeland. Brandell is hoping Mater Doe will give permission to cut a wider clearing in the wood behind the church to make room for lots of people dancing and feasting.

         I suggested some other options for gathering, the pilgrim’s portico at Luxeuil, or the village green of Metz, but the wood behind the little secular church is not exclusive for anyone. And they are inviting the vintners, both Christian and Jewish together.

         Maybe it’s a sign we are in more settled times when the bigger feast for all the neighbors is for the wedding, and not a vigil for the dead. Another hope for peace is that the Merovingian line has yielded a king with power over the lesser nobility and land owners, promising some uniformity of rule. Though King Dagobert, who now rules all these Frankish lands, still only  listens to the Christian nobility, always aching for battle. We may yet be begging for a different constant. Whenever a land is ruled by self-centered wealth, as rich as it may seem, it is never peaceful and the poor suffer first.

(Continues Tuesday, April 9)

#55.2, Weds., April 3, 2024

Historical Setting, 629 C.E. Vosges Mts.

         My worry is for our youngest, Layla, living as a serf at the Castle of Waldelenas with a man, who seems to me, blundering and abusive.  Maybe that is just a father’s point of view, seeing his youngest daughter now starting her own family at such a young age. And I know human nature well enough to see myself possibly blaming another man for the very thing that is my own flaw. When I see this fellow’s oafish behavior as “controlling,” I know that is something I am often said to be by my own family. So, before I go off to confront him with an idea of changing his whole nature just to suit my wishes, were that even possible, I need to pray for better understanding.

         Help me God.

         One step in my caring for Layla is speaking with Hannah about it. Checking up on the health of her little sister is something Hannah will do most dutifully. 

         She agrees, “Papa, I know just what you mean. Layla and this man, Will, were married in a quiet ceremony without friends or family up at the castle where they are serfs. I know Momma worried over it but what could we do?”

         “How did this fellow even find Layla?”

         “You know Layla has a very quiet nature, harboring secrets — probably secrets from you and the rest of her family.  So, with you not here, she was something of a wanderer.”

         “If I had been here, she might not have stayed home either.  It is one of those things where the more a father protests, the faster she will be out the door. I do know Layla.”

         “Okay, Papa, you aren’t to blame for this. Maybe. But whatever she needed she sought elsewhere than here.” 

         “What do you suppose she needed, Hannah?”

         “I think she went looking for a papa to tell her what to do.”

         “So, you think she was looking for someone to control her?”

         “No, please, not that. I think she didn’t know what she wanted and you were what was missing—so she found a thoughtless oaf.”

         “So, I am best replaced with a thoughtless oaf?”

         “Of course, I guess that’s clear isn’t it.”  Hannah goes on, “I think she wanted to know she is important enough to set a man on edge. And Will is one who can be set on edge.”

         “I wish I could go back and make this right for her before…”

(Continues tomorrow)

#55.1, Tues., April 2, 2024

Historical Setting, 629 C.E. Vosges Mts.

         Some things feel right about these times.  Ana and I are together, and all of our children and their spouses and the grandchildren are here.  We even have Gabe with us for this rare reunion feast. And I have had a chance to listen to each, for their hopes and dreams and fears and woes.  But what probably seems peaceful to mules and horses returned to their familiar pastures is unsettling for us humankinds realizing we are on the cusp of transitions that are beyond our power to own as dreams.

         Kings and emperors are vying for power, and bishops still maintain armed guards. Peace is tenuous. The poor become poorer as the wealthy buy seats of power.

         Among the poor, I worry about our youngest, Layla, now with child, and married to an oafish castle serf. Not that I have anything against poor farmers, as I am also one, but as her father, I never had the opportunity to give them my blessing. And now that I could offer that, I wonder if I even should.

         There is some forgiveness needed in this family. Greg finally recognizes Haberd as the master of this family farm, even though Haberd wasn’t the first born. And Haberd has made an agreement with Greg to let out the extra pastureland to the mules and horses he and Gaillard bring for pasturing.

         Gabe brings the news to Brandell that the monastery has had some changes too. They have plans to add artwork. And it seems in the years when Brandell was away learning the pigments and binders for painting, preparing himself as an artist, the dour old authority on Church doctrine passed away. He is buried in the monk’s cemetery.

         Brandell asks Gabe to put in a word for him as a possible artist. He says he has an idea for a gospel story that could include portraits of lesser saints, like maybe a little portrait of Brother Albestus  himself.

         Haberd’s wife scolds Brandell for that teasing.

         “It could be respectful.” Brandell defends. Haberd snickers.

         It seems, Gaia and Brandell are planning a wedding at the secular church in hopes some of the people Gaia and Brandell were traveling with will be able to come for the feast and the dancing. It will be later in the season when beautiful weather is more to be expected. They will dance as the vine that brings people together and Brandell is already writing new words for the once forbidden songs.

(Continues tomorrow)