Paradise Lost

PARADISE LOST

The Chamberlain

I welcomed the blithely refreshing warmth of the sun on my face, and the warm temperature of the air as a welcome change from the confines of the monastery.� The monastery does have its open courtyards and then there are the vineyards out back but nothing quite compared to them in my mind as this small road, which led through the countryside to town.� The idea that one might use this road to travel to distant lands filled my mind with many an earthly spectacle.� Alas, due to my own shallow pace the other brothers had traveled ahead and allowed me to linger behind.� The brothers believe solitude is good for the soul and that I am of the age where I should be able to rely upon myself so they ceased assisting me travel last year.� I may be late arriving at our destinations and St Benedict teaches us that tardiness to God�s work is a fault yet I believe my brothers give me leniency due to my condition. As a consequence of the circumstance of my birth my one leg does not function quite as well as other so even the road to town can present me with an earthly and sometimes spiritual challenge.�� Aware of my condition the brothers took no notice if I lagged out of their sight.�� I would usually take advantage of this opportunity to stop when first within sight of the town and stand there a minute or two.� I would lay my walking staff against my shoulder and drink in the panorama of God�s creation that lay about me.� How wonderful and beneficent the creator was when making this little valley.� Unbeknownst to me this day would be unlike any of the others to come before or any to come since.� Today I would be privy to one of the Lord�s greatest creations: a young woman.

�� I had been born and raised in the monastery and so I knew nothing of these �women� and their ways except for my limited experience with some Order of traveling sisters and what information I had gleaned from the Great Book.� Women, it seemed, were not altogether to be trusted which is why, when I first laid eyes upon the peasant girl, I quickly averted my gaze downward.� I recited the Lord�s Prayer and referred myself to my catechism.� She had smiled at me!� Brothers had smiled at me.� Nuns had smiled at me.� But this smile was different, so very different I had to turn away.� I hurried myself out of the market place to a manger not far away.� I paused a while to compose my mind and look at the animals.� I do not often get to see animals outside of the morning doves that coo softly in the day and the monastery�s cat, Francis.

� I returned to the market more composed and able to deal with what may lie ahead.� She was there again, and as providence would have it, she stood behind the very kiosk at which I needed to purchase the parsnips for tonight�s stew.� I made my way to the stand and requested the items.� I may have been a bit hesitant, for she again looked at me strangely.� Her look I could only describe as the same look comes over Brother Mark�s face when he is ready to pull fresh bread from the oven.� I could not understand her reasoning.� How difficult these women were!

�You�re from the monastery?�� she queried.� When compared to the brothers her voice sounded soft and quite pleasing.� Because we are forbidden to engage with them and by the Rule of St. Benedict we are to keep our silence, I restricted myself to only the necessary words needed to purchase the parsnips.

�I see you�re lame.� Would you like to rest inside a pace.� I can bring you a trencher and some crowdie.�

�No.� I replied, � I mustn�t tarry.�� In truth I was hungry.� But the Rule admonishes us to eat only within the walls of the monastery if our journey is to be short in length.� The thought of lingering in the presence of this woman was attractive.� I felt I could learn so much about the Divine�s creation made from my ancestor�s rib.� Knowledge of one�s counterpart in divinity can only serve to bring one closer to said divinity. We are not, after all, Cathars.

�But, I cleaved myself from the situation and made my way back to join the other brothers.� I put the parsnips into the large basket brother Gregory toted and the return journey began.� Brother Timothy, always the most audacious of our group, proffered an idea.� Since we were no longer under the abbot�s strict supervision we might engage in a bit of indulgence.� The others were not adamantly hesitant and agreed.� Brother Timothy suggested we each tell a story to pass the time while walking and that we resume our silence only when in sight of the monastery.� With some little debate the game was agreed upon and the moment relished when Timothy started off with Hrafnkel�s Saga, his favourite.�

�� I again lagged behind and only heard half the story.� But I was allowed my one vice and stopped to again drink up the vista of our little burgh.� The brothers were well ahead of me now as I turn to make my way.� I heard a disturbance in the thicket to my left and turned in hopes of spying a rabbit or a fox.� The sight that greeted my eyes was such a shock to my senses that I staggered backwards.� I stumbled over my own palsied foot, lost my staff�s grip and wound up in a heap on the road.� As I looked up the face of a woman greeted me.� Not any woman, but the one who had smiled at me oddly this very morning.

�� She offered her hand, �Art ye hurt?�

�� I am well.� I replied.� I sat up and groped for my staff.�

�� Look, thy hand bleeds.� Come into the shade and rest.� Allow me the tending to your wound.�

Reluctantly, I accepted her offer.� No good would come of this I was sure, but I was bleeding and in need of assistance.� My humours were all astir now not only because of the blood letting but also the proximity to this fascinating stranger, a woman.

She walked me to a tree and the shade was refreshing.� I noticed how nervous I was, this woman nearly made me tremble!� She tore a band of cloth from her kirtle.� She took my hand in hers delicately.� Her flesh was soft and marvelous.� I had no idea that a body might have a delicate feeling.� All of the brother�s hands were rough and calloused from working the vineyards and the presses.� I realized I was enjoying this sensual pleasure and pulled away my hand for it is forbidden.� She simply smiled at me, the same smile from earlier in the day, and reached for my hand.� I gave her the hand but kept my mind on my cathechisms, so as not to falter from the path.� She spit into my palm and wiped away the blood and grit with her shift.� She then tied my hand firmly, but gently, to bandage the wound.

�� Dost thou not find me beautiful?� she queried.

In sooth I had not considered the fact. I have seen paintings and illuminations I considered beautiful but I never contemplated the word in application to a person.��

She saw the perplexed look on my face and what she did next will forever be etched into the annals of my memory.� She took my hand and placed it over her own heart.� At first my hand came into contact with the rough fibre of her shift and then it pressed inward farther into a soft mass of flesh.� As soon as I questioned this pliability my hand stopped on her chest, my palm and fingers full of this soft part of her body.

�� You�re soft.�� I muttered for it was the only thing I could grasp at the moment.� Her lips parted and she gave a small laugh.� She appeared genuinely happy to have my hand where it was.� A strange sensation came over my body.� My humours were definitely disturbed as they are sometimes upon waking in the morning.� But this time I did not want them to settle down, as I do before I go to see the other brothers.

�� This brings you joy?� I ventured.� Her head rolled to the side as she smiled.� Never have I seen any person move or act in such a fashion!� It was�fascinating.� Curious to see what would happen I raised my other hand and placed it beside its companion on her other side.� Her head lolled back and her hair nearly touched the ground.� She picked herself up and shot forward, pulling my face to hers and then pressed her mouth to mine.� This motion was rather like a kiss, only it was more forceful and lasted a great deal longer.� I contemplated the name of this curious osculation until I realized that she had now placed her hand into my nether region.� No one had ever done this before and the reaction was a curious one.� I appeared to grow stronger as her hand moved back and forth.� She thrust herself forward and back from the shoulders which had the effect of compressing the soft skin on top of her torso.� What an odd activity to enjoy.� Although, I must admit, I found it enjoyable myself!

�� She quietly whispered, �Hast thou seen any miracles?�

In truth one of the more disheartening aspects of my service to God was that I had lived this long and not seen anything miraculous.� I have made pilgrimages to touch relics, and received the sacraments but not once had I witnessed a miracle.

�� She sat back on her haunches before me made a motion that appeared to be a deep breath and her shift moved outward from her body.

�� I was puzzled. She looked for some approval.

�Did that not bring you pleasure?�

�� You made your shift larger?� I struggled.� I didn�t see what was miraculous in this.

�� She looked downward and her tresses fell to her should.� Again she breathed deep the cool air and again her shift grew larger.� A smile of satisfaction crossed her lips.

�� I leant back it the grass.� �I do not understand the purpose you attempt to accomplish.� Why a larger shift?�

�� Simpkin!� she rebuked and a cloud of displeasure crossed her face.� She stood and her hands went to her neck.� She made a frighteningly animalistic snarl and tore at her raiment.� She ripped through the shift and chemise in one great motion and stood before me.� I was reminded of the story of David and Goliath as she stood above me, her hair on her bare shoulders and what was left of the top of her shift hanging loosely about her waist mostly obscured by her savage breast.

�� Her breath was heavy.

�� This �woman� is very unlike a man.� Woman�s body has a particularly pleasing curve and shape.� Most noticeably the skin on her chest developed into two large mounds, which curve outward from the inner arm.� Each one went down to her midriff and met in the center.� The tops of the mounds were coloured in a reddish- pink much like what I posses on my own body only much larger.� They were amazing and fascinating, truly a miraculous and divinely inspired creation.

�� Now watch ye.� she rumbled.

�� She again made the motion of a deep inhalation and her eyes squeezed shut, almost a wince, but not laden with pain.

�� The mounds on her chest then became larger.� They crept forward in size filling larger and larger.� The growth reminded me of the filling of goat-skin sacks with wine; the sacks growing fuller and larger and rounder.� The sacks would undulate until not one more drop could be poured and were then tied off and hung to a cart.� As her mounds reached down to her belly they took on the motion and size of these sacks.� But they did not stop.� Where a sack would have burst its capacity she kept filling.� I wondered if these parts of her body felt similar to the sacks so I crawled forward to kneel in front of her.� I was before her as a supplicant, and my hands rose as though I were to receive the glory of God.� When they made contact with her body she cried out a whisper.� She was smooth and pliant.� I pressed my hands inward and they sank deeply into her corpora.� I ran my hands to the sides of her expanse curiously.� One hand remained while I took the other to explore the rouge summit of her left side.� It had a different feeling.� It was course and bumpy and the end of it grew stiff and rigid.� I noticed that I myself had grown stiff and rigid and wondered what the consequences of this reaction might be.� But the lusty moan she uttered when my hand drifted to her summit made me lose track of any conscious deliberation.� She lifted her arms over the bulges at her waist to put them on the backs of my shoulders.� I felt I needed to attempt to share the pleasure I was feeling so I leant forward slightly and attempted to imitate the strange version of a kiss she bestowed upon me earlier.� Though it seemed to me she would take more enjoyment if I placed the kiss upon her summit.� When I did so the reaction was immediate.� Her fingers interlaced through the hair of my tonsure and she pressed me forward into her capacious flesh.� She was supple and warm against my cheeks and forehead and chin.� She also rubbed up against my left ear, neck and shoulder.� A warm feeling of safety and protection swept over me.� I felt free of all trouble as I lie here within this woman.

�� All of the sudden she threw my shoulders to the ground and stood above me.� Another swelling and she filled to where her hips looked like they might support her girth. Her arms stretched forward to grasp her own summits.� As she rubbed she breathed to me an order.

�� Take up thy habit.�

�� Instinctively I knew what was about to happen though I�d never experienced it before.� I knew of my prohibition to engage in sexual congress with another but my mind was so far flung from the natural world I might have been on travels with Sir John Mandeville.

As I hiked my garment she positioned herself over me and crudely sat down.� I was now truly within a woman and the sensation was� ecstatic.� Warm, soft, wet, tingling, pressing, sweating, grasping, enveloping and a litany of other descriptions come to mind.� Her chest nearly covered mine.� I was able to grab and squeeze each side with both hands.� She rocked back and forth in a curious manner that brought a great sensation to my loins.� The sensation ran up my body, to my head.� I felt a building pressure and became worried.� The pressure built, she rocked, waves of flesh rippled across my body.� I groped, she rocked, and I couldn�t hold back the pressure.� She rocked, the pressure built and then in one great moment of pain and pleasure I let out an epiphianic cry of bliss-torn rapture to the ears of the Creator which I am sure is responsible for the flaws currently found in the stained-glass of local houses of worship.� I flowed within her, spirit coursed through my every limb. I tensed and flexed and then it happened.

�� I saw God.

***

�� That was many years ago.� Since that day I have never strayed from the path.� I am Abbott now.� The only indulgence I allow myself is my yearly pilgrimage to her grave.� I bring one white rose and a sack of wine.� I plant the rose and drink the wine.� No one must observe my actions so I need choose the day carefully and take care to disguise my visage.� I saw her as miraculous.� She strengthened my adherence to the path of God.� But in the eyes of others that did not know her as I- the unclean, uneducated masses - she was an abomination.� Excommunicated for possessing abilities beyond the ken of mortal man, she was eventually tried and burned as a witch.� I pray for her soul daily.� How could man in his simplicity destroy such an example of divine grace?� One should never underestimate the strength and number of the ignorant.

EXPLICIT HOC TOTUM PRO CHRISTO DAH MIHI POTUM