| Letters from Brother Sinestus to his brother, Brother Colin. |
| Surely I did not know the meaning of the word Godforsaken until I arrived at this place. Barra Head is on the westernmost shore of the highlands of Scotland, and a wilder, more untamed countryside it would be difficult to imagine. Yet, Brother Colin, how exalted I am to be here, how eager to bring the Lord's message to these good people. Tomorrow I shall set forth among the inhabitants, taking to them the joy of the Word of God. -Brother Sinestus Tor, Cistercian monk, in a letter to his brother Colin, also a monk, September 1767 Brother Colin, I shall not prevaricate to you, who are my flesh and blood as well as a fellow servant of god. I have only begun my work hereand shall be content if it takes me until the end of my days to reach the people of Barra Head. But it has been a surprise to discover how the populace resists the Good Word. There is a handful of devout souls, to be sure, but everywhere the old religion pervades. Where I look, I see ancient sigils chipped into rock faces, painted on the crude sod and stone houses: even herb gardens grown in heathen patterns. Surely God has sent me here to save these people, these so called Wodebaynes. -Brother Sinestus Tor, to his brother Colin, November 1767 Winter has set upon us, Brother Colin, and it is a raw one, compared to Weymouth's mildness. It does not freeze, nor yet snow, but it is cold with a wetness that chills one's bones to the marrow. Brother Colin, I have not wavered in my devotion to these people and my blessed calling of spreading God's Word. But I tell you, the people of Barra Head have a deep suspicion of me, the other brothers (we are five) , and even our blessed Father Benedict, who is as holy a man as I have known. Heads turn away as we walk through the village, dogs bark, children run and hide. Today I found a marking drawn on the abbey door. It was a star encircled. The sight of this Devil's mark made my blood run cold. -Brother Sinestus Tor, to Colin, January 1768 Brother Colin, my hand shakes as I write this. I have told all to Father Benedict, and he is praying on the matter now. Tonight after matins I found I could not sleep and determined to walk in the chill air along the cliffs in the hopes that healthy exercise would help me to rest. I set out at a brisk pace, giving thanks for my sturdy wool cloak. After a time I spied the glow of a cheerful fire. Thinking it was a lone shepard, I hastened to join him and share in the warmth before heading back to the abbey. Coming quite close, I saw this was no lone shepherd, but a group of people. Women from Barra Head, each soul bare to the sky, danced in pagan nudity around the fire, wailing some unearthly song. Horror overwhelmed me, and after but a few moments I dashed away from the evil place. I immediately found Father Benedict and confessed what I had seen. What do you make of this, Brother Colin? I had assumed that Wodebayne was simply a clan name, but now I wonder if they are some darker, heathen sect. Please send me your earliest counsel, for I am most distraught. Brother Sinestus Tor, March 1768 I am glad to hear your cough is better, Brother. As I recounted, the siege (I can only call it thus) has continued against the abbey. Our poor milk cow has gone dry, our kitchen garden has withered, and the mice are keeping our one cat constantly at work. Our daily offices are even more sparsely attended. It is the villagers, the Wodebaynes. I know this, though I have not seen it. We are now obliged to buy milk and cheese from a neighbouring farm. Various illnesses have beset us; we cannot shake colds, agues, fevers, ect. It is a desperate time, and I will resort to desperate measures. Brother Sinestus, to Colin, May 1768 There is a villager here named Nuala. Without the abbot’s permission I asked to meet with her, as she was one of the few Wodebaynes who would meet my eyes. I asked her frankly what deviltry was at work here. She said no deviltry at all since there was no devil. I cried out that was heresy and that if she had no fear of the eternal fires of hell, how could she hope to join our Lord in heaven? Brother Colin, she laughed and said there was no heaven, either. As I gaped in horror, she leaned close so I could smell heather and smoke in her hair. She said, “I’ll fill your cow’s udder if you kiss me.” I turned and ran. Surely, Brother Colin, this Nuala Riordan is the devil’s own agent. Brother Sinestus Tor, to Colin, May 1768 Brother Thomas’s wound continues to fester. He is near delirium, and I fear he will lose the leg. Brother Colin, I must set this letter aside; Father Benedict has motioned to me. I will finish later. The Lord works in mysterious ways. Father Benedict came to me in all gravity and voiced his concern about Brother Thomas. He commanded me to go seek help from a village granny-wife. I asked if that was not like asking for help from the devil, to which he replied that God judges what is good or evil, not man. In the village no granny-wife would see me, but Nuala Riordan came with me and is still with Brother Thomas. I tremble in fear for our very souls: she is chanting devil’s words over him, fixing him with foul teas, applying seaweed poultices to his wound. To my mind it would be better if he died rather than have the devil heal him. Brother Sinestus Tor, to Colin, June 1768 Brother Colin, I have doubts that I have not been able to confess to good Father Benedict. My brother, I fear I am possessed by evil spirits. Since the night of Brother Thomas’s healing, Nuala Riordan has haunted my waking moments and my dreams. Only during prayer does she not intrude upon my poor mind. I have mortified my flesh, I have prostrated myself before God, I have spent days and nights in prayer until I am half feverish. My brother, if you have any hope for my immortal soul, please remember me in your prayers. Brother Sinestus Tor, to Colin, July 1768 I am sorry for the delay in answering your last two letters. I have been ill. The summer grass sickness felled our community, and we have lost both Brother Sean and Brother Paul Marcus, God have mercy on their souls. Myself, I owe my sad life to Nuala, who nursed me back from death not once but several times. In a babe’s week voice I bid that pawn of the devil to be gone. She laughed, her voice like a mountain stream. Surely you’ll not think me evil, said she. Truly, we in Belwicket do more good than you, holed up in your abbey of gloom. Through my delirium I insisted she did the devil’s work. She bent close to me, so that her black hair fell across my chest. In a whisper she told me, “We do no work but that which should be done. My ancestors were gathering knowledge while your people were still fighting the Crusades.” I felt as if I were drowning. Today my head is clearer, and I do not know whether that interview took place. Remember me in your prayers, Brother Colin, I beg you. Brother Sinestus Tor, to Colin, August 1768 Brother Colin, my battles are usually of the spirit, but today I had one of the flesh. On the road home from Atherton to Barra Head, I saw three roadside bandits set upon Nuala Riordan. I commanded them to unhand her, and two of them immediately set upon me. God forgive me, Brother Colin, but it was as if I were a lad once more, wrestling with you and Derwin. You’ll remember that I always trounced you both at wrestling, and I trounced both those sorry louts today. As for the third, he fell into some sort of fit; with no warning he fell to the ground, writhing in pain. At last he fainted, and Nuala and I left with all haste. Thanks be to God, she was unharmed. When I suggested that perhaps she should not leave the village without her husband, she looked at me oddly. Then boldly she told me she has no husband, nor a lover, either. My cheeks burned at her frankness, Brother Colin, I admit it. Then, as softly as a dove’s wing, she said my name –Sinestus –and it was as if her very voice were weaving a spell around me. I left her as quickly as I could, for to speak truth, I feared the temptation of sin. It is time for vespers, Brother Colin, and then Brother Edmond is taking the post. I must finish this letter another time. Brother Sinestus Tor, to Colin, September 1768 I thank you for trying to intercede on my behalf, but it has been decided, Brother Colin. I have been remanded to the abbey at Habeustadt, in Prussia. I expected such action to be taken against me once I confessed my many sinful thoughts to Father Benedict. And how can I question the fairness, the wisdom of such a judgement? There, away from the source of my temptation, among the contemplatives, perhaps God will show me a path through my tortured mind. As for Nuala, she has disappeared. I pray that God watches over her. Brother Sinestus Tor, to Colin, April 1769 Thank you, Brother Colin, for your kind words, and also the gift of wine you sent. I have added it to the abbey’s cellar, and Father Josef was most appreciative. Thanks be to God, I am well, though still troubled by confusing visions and dreams. My knowledge of the Prussian language is expanding greatly, and I am in awe of the abbey’s library of precious and holy books. They have amassed a glorious storehouse of religious works, and I believe they are most selective about with whom they share this wealth. Here, living, working, and praying in silence, I fell that I am free from my troubles of the past. Brother Sinestus Tor, to Colin, April 1770 Brother Colin, I am sure you will be most distraught to learn that I have received a letter from her. The abbot of course reads my post, and I cannot imagine he would let a missive from her pass, so perhaps the letter was spelled. (Do not think this to be my insensate fear –I am quite certain that the villagers of Barra Head had powers beyond what I as a mortal can comprehend.) Naturally once I realized who it was from, I turned it over to Father Edmond and have since been praying in the chapel. But I could not stop myself from reading it, Brother Colin. She wrote that she has been living in Ireland, in a hamlet called Ballynigel, and that she was delivered of a girl child at summer’s end last year. The child, she says, is sturdy and bright. I shall pray to God to forgive her sins, as I pray for forgiveness of mine. She intends to return to Barra Head. I do not know why she continues to torment me. I do not know what to think and fear a return of the brain fever that so weakened me two years ago. Pray for me, Brother Colin, as I do for you. Brother Sinestus Tor, to Colin, October 1770 Brother Colin, you would hardly recognize me. I have lost almost three stone since last autumn. I can neither eat nor sleep. I have given up on myself; I am lost. God has chosen that I should pay for my sins on earth as well as in the burning fires to come. Brother Sinestus Tor, to Colin, February 1771 Brother Colin, by now you will have heard of my latest travail. Why God has chosen this fate for me, I do not know. All I can do is submit to His will. I arrived in Barra Head ten days ago. Father Benedict had changed hardly at all and welcomed me most lovingly, which brought tears to my eyes. The abbey had changed for the better, with glass windowpanes, a pigsty, and two milk cows. The brothers (there are now eight) were planning the solemn celebration of Easter, our Lord’s rising, with the handful of villagers who share their worship. Between matins and laud, I left my cell and headed for the village in the darkness. I do not know what my thoughts were on that sole, dark walk, but with no warning I was knocked to the ground and a sleek black wolf was ripping at my cowl, tearing at my shoulder. With God’s grace I held off its attack for a moment, and what I saw in those few moments before I fainted can only be part of my insanity, I fear. When the moon struck this creature’s eyes, I saw Nuala, looking out at me. Poor Brother Colin, how you must pity me in my madness! Now I am in hospital. I envy you, my brother, for having been spared this hellish existence. As soon as I am able to travel, I am being sent to the hospice in Baden. Brother Sinestus Tor, to Colin, March 1771 I received your letter yesterday, and I thank you most gratefully. To answer your question, this hospice is not at all like a prison; as long as we stay on the grounds, we are allowed much freedom. There is no one here who is dangerous to himself or to another, though we are all tormented. I thank God that Father’s estate can subsidize my stay here. They have allowed me to wear my monk’s habit, and I am grateful. I do not want to answer your other questions. Forgive me, Brother, but I cannot think on it. Simon (Brother Sinestus) Tor, to Colin, July 1771 Colin, I write to you in fevered hysteria. I learned only hours ago that Nuala is to be burned at the stake, in Barra Head. I can see that at last her devil’s work has caught up to her, but the sentence! As Father Benedict himself said, God is to judge good and evil, not man! Cannot her soul yet be saved? Can no one bring her to the Lord’s joy? It can be done only if she is alive –surely they must see that, Colin! I have been insane with worry since receiving this news (news that I am sure I was not meant to know). My brain cannot comprehend her fate at the stake. And what of the child? I beg you, send to Barra Head and inquire. I know not the child’s name, nor can I verify whether or not it still lives. But try, for my poor sake. I will await the next post with all anxiety. Simon Tor, to Colin. October 1771 Diary of Benedict, Cistercian Abbot, December 1771 Today we held the sad burial and consecration of one of our sons. Brother Sinestus Tor was brought from Baden and laid to rest in the abbey’s churchyard. His mother assured me he had received the last sacraments, but the brothers and I performed extra rites of purity and forgiveness. I cannot think that gentle Sinestus, so bright and full of hope, became an agent of the devil, but there are facts of this matter that trouble me greatly, though I shall take them with me to my own grave, God willing. How is it that this boy died at the exact moment of the exact day that the witch Nuala Riordan was burned at the stake? They were hundreds of miles apart and had no earthly communication. And what of the mark found on the boy’s shoulder? His mother made no mention of it; I wonder, did she see his body or no? But the scars there cannot be explained unless he were burned. Burned with a star encircled on his shoulder. |