I’m in the process of putting out a 3rd edition of my book, Adventurer’s Horn. It will probably be available at Amazon late in August of 2017.  Although the original story was checked over by a professor at a Creative Writing School, I tweaked it a number of times over the years, so it really needed editing again. Even though it won an honorable mention at the 2014 Midwest Book Review, I didn’t have an editor’s assistance with the project.  This should be close to the final draft.  Here is the cleaned up version of  Return of the Rood which was originally written about thirty years ago.

RETURN OF THE ROOD

 

Barnabas Abjingles’ forearm crutches clanked jarringly against the cobblestones. He was dressed in a loose fitting gray hoodie imprinted with Rood and Druid Festival 2010 along with photos of the acting troupe printed front and back. He wore a standard set of navy sweat pants and black Velcro strapped running shoes.

 

Sweat trickled in streams down his hideously contorted, cleft-lipped face. Barny forced his misshapen body forward. Twisting from side to side, like a disjointedly ambulating lizard, Barny leaned on one brace, while he reached ahead with the other. Each step was a macabre waltz, one foot forced forward, trembling uncontrollably, the other dragged behind. Concentrating on a lilac-shaded statue of a caped bard with a harp, located at the top of a slope that overlooked the courtyard and the commons, Barny zigzagged among groups of students and tourists.

 

While the rest of his body was frail and twisted one perception that was keen and even superlative was his eye sight. He knew that he didn’t have eyes like an eagle, but he could see quite far and was as perceptive as the character Sherlock Holmes from the stories one of his nannies was wont to read to him. Barny’s hearing had also developed strongly as his system compensated for his weakened body.

 

From his vantage point, he looked out over the campus. Just below the hill was a cul de sac that opened between the base of the hill and the commons, which was a bit smaller than a rugby field. Just into the commons far enough to allow plenty of space for the festival crowd were four carefully reassembled stage sets that the stage crew always placed during the week before the festival. To the front of the rest was a simple stage with a central lectern. Back of the stage and adjacent to the meditation park was the Celtic Guard House set. East of the simple stage was an Inn set. To the south west of the mediation park was a Farm/Barn stage set.

Made of cobblestones. the brown bumpy path wound its way around the oval commons and then snaked in from all four sides to the center of the field which contained a meditation garden encircled by seven foot tall ornately carved oaken walls. Beneath the belled oriental roof was a four- foot airway that left the garden open to the elements. Inside the building were benches, wind chimes, and a tinkling fountain. North, beyond the meditation park, a short walk away was the administration building and rainy day class rooms. East of the admin building by several blocks was the Abjingles Mansion where Barny had lived until his Uncle Hayil had become heir to the property. Above and beyond the mansion was a beautiful vista of high forested hills and sea side cliffs.

 

North and east of the manse was the Abjingles guest house where Barny stayed with his care provider. South of his cottage was a park that was used for open air conventions and also functioned as a carnival area for the annual Rood and Druid festival. Along the southern and eastern edge of the park was a long row of concession and trinket stands. Like the fabled yellow brick road, but charcoal black, a narrow paved path followed the edge of the park border and wound between the cul de sac and the auto lot. To the north of the auto lot was the Bard’s Harp Pub. East of the pub the road that exited the auto lot widened into two lanes and crossed a bridge onto a small chain of tiny islands and finally entered the mainland.

 

I’d better get there quickly, thought Barny, as he left the courtyard and began his ascent. Campus Security allows me to wander the grounds if I stay out of the commons and Admin Building. But Uncle Baby-killer is out and about today. It won’t take much for me to get removed. That would be terrible! It’s the first day of the festival! Jugglers! Acrobats! Welsh musicians! A theatre troupe! People dressed masquerade style! I’d hate to miss it. Banned from interacting with the students and faculty, Barny’s photographic memory still found plenty of stimuli. Bardston Community College ran from May Day until October 30^th, and classes, except when it rained, or on examination days, were held on the commons. Most classes were campestral. Lectures given in a modified Socratian format produced both fiery dialogs and inane comments. Barny often sat unobtrusively in the courtyard, outside of the commons, listening and lip reading the faces of the participants.

 

Orphaned shortly after his birth, Barny had been raised, by his grandmother, Abigail Abjingles, who had founded Bardston Community College. He had lived on Bardston College property all of his twenty-seven years. Only during the last seven years, following his grandmother’s death, had it become necessary for Barny to keep a low profile. Breaking this rule resulted in being escorted back to his care provider.

 

Good, thought Barny, as he paused to breath fragrant lavender blossoms from a lilac, I made it. My standby festival spot is still vacant. Barny mumbled and grumbled as he dropped his crutches, collapsed, leaned back against the statue that shared his knoll with the lilac bush, and folded his grotesquely bent hands into his lap. When it comes time to get up, groused Barny, I’ll be like a turtle on its back, but eventually, I’ll be able to get up again. And every moment of struggle will have been worth it. His usual court yard listening posts were overrun by the festival participants. The inner commons, usually reserved for open-air classrooms, contained a model village with a guard post, town square, inn, and one of those archaic farm houses with the barn built underneath. For watching the festival, as he couldn’t get up close, he needed the hillock’s height and field of view.

 

Barny’s eyes were drawn to the festival streamer. He read the wind-whipped banner’s familiar message: “Welcome to the 2011 Rood and Druid Festival.” Pulse racing, Barny scanned the boisterous throng, many of them decked out in brightly colored costumes, who milled in the courtyard. Concessionaires, hawking food, and souvenirs strutted like crowing peacocks, outside their flamboyantly canopied booths. Tantalizing scents – grilled meats and nuts, icy libations, baking pastries – rode and mingled with the stiff sea breezes, tugging at his senses like wind sprites. Beer, wine and mead gardens filled with picnic tables and small bands that pumped out folk tunes, Irish Punk, contemporary instrumental and polka music from loud portable speaker systems, competed with the growls of carnival ride motors and the chatter of noisy crowds. Barny enjoyed observing the diversity of dress, from archaic Celtic garb to the gossamer costumes of mythical humanoids and listening to the various musical genres.

 

Although Barny’s grandmother’s version of the “The Rood And The Druid” differed substantially from the new and politically correct folk-tale that was commonly performed, he associated the festival with her. Tears blurred Barny’s eyes as he remembered his grandmother’s final moments. His gaze shifted to the Abjingles Mansion which towered above the flat and sprawling Admin Building. Barny longingly remembered the scents of mothballs, flowery perfume, and talcum powder. He recalled the course feel of the woolen quilt against his skin as he had leaned against his grandmother’s bedside and held her cold wrinkled hands. Grand mamma Abigail had used a Simply Rest Signature adjustable bed as she had slept in a sitting position for two years. While he had sat with her many times over the two years of her drawn out illness, that day was most memorable, as she had died before the setting of the sun, as she had said she would. Barny recalled the fine sheen of her long silver tresses and the sun’s rays, like an angelic aura, which radiated into the room through the French Bay window. He recollected demanding, and then begging, with slurred angry words, that she stay.

 

“I am indeed sorry, my dearest Barnabas,” she had replied, “but I shall not remain. The Father of Eternity, Creator of Heaven and Earth, has bid me come, and peacefully I shall go.”

 

“But who will care for me?” whined Barny. No one had heard his unintelligible whimpers as he reenacted a scene from his own private play.

 

Barny’s mind played back his grandmother’s final act, while the opening scenes of another drama started to unfold.

 

“Barnabas, hear me now,” his ailing grandmother had said. “Your body may be crippled, but your mind is not. Do you remember the folk play called ‘The Rood and the Druid?’” She had coughed into a perfumed kerchief and had then continued, “And that unlike the play that contemporary doggerel portrays, that the Rood was not a sot whose miracles fizzled? Or that the Rood did not die at the hands of the High Druid? Do you remember that when the Rood prayed, that the village idiot had really been healed? That he performed many other miracles and later destroyed the magic of the Druidic priests and mages? Of course, you do! And that the real event which happened only a few years after the Resurrection is very close to the politically incorrect version of the play? Or that he will return? Of course, you do. You rarely forget.”

 

Resounding peals from the Bardston College Clock that echoed throughout the commons roused Barny from his reverie. He watched the Chancellor, clad in a black robe and stag headdress, emerge from the Administration Building, cross the commons and take his place on the raised dais of the town square. Buzzing voices and the rattle of icy Cokes in cardboard cups stilled when Chancellor Hayil Taliesin’s stentorian voice blasted across the campus.  Hayil Taliesin’s name was merely a fabrication as his birth name was very common – Derec Arthur Crandon.

 

You think I’m dumb, fumed Barny, because I can’t talk and my body is deformed and crippled. I heard you bragging. You burned the former administrator in a wicker cage. You gloated about the sacrifice of one of your acolytes. You always ignored me Uncle Baby-killer. You acted like I was a piece of tacky furniture or an unremarkable oil painting. Barny’s limbs, affected by his distress, palsied as if they were in the throes of St. Vitus’ Dance.

 

Chancellor Taliesin concluded with great panache, “Let the players come forth!” Faces aglow, Bardston College’s Theatrical Troupe, exited the enclosed Meditation Park adjacent to the commons. They joined hands and danced below the town square platform at the edge of the crowd. One of the vendors snapped the official digital photo of the cast that he would later take to his concession stand to upload to the fan website and to make Rood and Druid Festival 2011 t-shirts, hats, pinback buttons, and hoodies. Cheering festival participants showered them with the customary confetti and wild flowers that had always been part of the first scene of the play.

 

I wondered, mused Barny, who would perform the play. I recognize them all. Some years they bring in professional actors. Kendrick and Jonathan Cooper have played the lead roles for three straight years now. Megan Sanders played the barmaid last year. She did a great job, but I don’t like the scene she had to perform. Professor Zuel, in Comparative Religions Class, discussed a movie entitled, “The Last Temptation of Christ.” Her part reminded me too much of that movie. Sam Katuzo performed last year, as well. Except that he looks like a trim sumo, he did a swell job of portraying the Celtic guard. Bare-chested and covered with blue painted symbols, he looked more like a wandering native New Zealander. Sam’s face had a blue lightning symbol on one cheek that began on one temple and ended against his dimpled jaw. I don’t know how Myles and Jenny will do. They are new to acting. Willie and Billie, the Karn twins, haven’t performed before either, but they just do the Page characters. That’s narration and prop set-up.

 

Suddenly a wailing siren ended the troupe’s frolicking. Beeping his horn and snaking through the crowd the officer edged his cycle into the commons. Barny was puzzled. He knew that there wasn’t a cop scene in the play. Following a brief conversation with the officer, Kendrick, dirty blood red Rood costume flapping as he ran, raced away along the narrow winding lane to the auto lot. His brother Jonathan also dressed in a soiled jester’s suit and cap, bells dinging, sprinted after his brother. Barny thought he had seen Jonathan fighting back tears before they had raced away.

 

“Gee-whiz, what are we going to do now mates?” asked Megan, an attractive young lady, as she ran her fingers through her punkish, jet black hair. She wore fingerless gloves of soft, gray tweed. Megan’s short half-top leather vest and leggings were made of the same material but dyed brown. Each was laced vertically on both sides, from her pants cuffs up to her waist band, and on her vest, from the bottom of her vest up to her arm pits. While the costume displayed less cleavage than was customary, Megan’s side ties exposed two inches of creamy skin from her ankles to a few inches below her hips. The vest garment presented a bare midriff, and just as the pants, was laced like boots, in a diamond pattern of leather string and untanned flesh, that extended uninterrupted from the bottom of the costume to just under her shoulders. She wore a white gem in her belly button which flashed in the sunlight whenever she moved. Megan’s nose was short, cute and pointy like those of certain comic book girls. She added, “Big Coop and Little Coop are the most important players!”

 

Megan will start chewing her lip anytime now, thought Barny, she always does that when she’s anxious. Even though she’s really showing too much skin for public display, in my opinion, she does look swell in that barmaid costume. I don’t think its authentic ancient Welsh costuming, though.

 

“How do I know boss?” groused the bare-chested muscular Oriental as he tugged up his buckskin pants. “Anyway, who could guess that some bloke would beat the living daylights out Mr. and Mrs. Cooper and stuff them in their auto’s boot?”

 

Barny noticed that Myles, dressed in the patched, threadbare tunic and homespun pants of an ancient Welsh farmer, had started fidgeting. After fumbling with his straw hat, Myles offered, “I’ll do Big Coop’s part. Have one of the Pages do the village idiot part.”

 

“Myles, you are a village idiot!” exclaimed the girl beside him.

 

That’s Jenny, his girlfriend, mused Barny. If Muppet Show’s Miss Piggy has a double in the real world, Myles’ girlfriend would be it. Besides the general build, voice, and personality, Jenny almost has Miss Piggy’s nose!

 

Jenny continued browbeating her milksop boyfriend, “You can barely remember your own bloody lines! And who would play the poor farmer? More importantly, I’m the farmer’s wife! Or are you trying to get out of sharing the part with me? Huh? Is that it? Honestly, I don’t know why I keep you around.”

 

“Look!” shouted Meg. “Big Coop’s coming back to give it a go anyway!”

 

Can’t be him thought Barny, the walk’s not the same. And this guy has a book pack. Not only that, he’s wearing scarlet fingerless gloves. His traditional dark red costume is new. At least I don’t see any patches or soiled spots. No, I’d wager the Coopers are still leaving the island. Soon they’ll be speeding over the island bridges to Anglesey, and then to the mainland.

 

With a practiced flip of his head, the stranger’s cowl fell backward, revealing a deeply tanned, bearded man of barely less than six feet tall. His skin was olive. While slightly oval, his face was ruddy, with a prominent nose. While not exactly handsome, his sweet, serene countenance radiated a light, especially when he smiled, that produced a compelling quality that greatly enhanced his features. Deeply sun-bleached, as if from spending much time out-of-doors, his chestnut beard and hair were naturally frosted with strands of dark blond., his mane Parted in the middle, his mane was smooth down to about the ears, where it started to hang in waves and curls almost down to his shoulders. His irises were golden brown around the edges but softened into grayish blue. Large, and intelligent, his orbs were keen and piercing and flashed with an inner light.

 

Well, mused Barny, he’s not your typical collegian. A thirtyish something perpetual student? Or one of those higher learning gypsies that travel about, strumming their guitars, singing about free love and global harmony.

 

“Hey boss!” exclaimed Sam “Samurai” Katuzo as he waved his wooden sword, “Whatcha think you’re doing?”

 

The man flashed a radiant smile, bowed to the group and then the crowd. He said, “My name’s Joshua, and I am here Sam, to play the lead.”

 

Jenny snorted and then exclaimed, “Yeah, and I’m Lady Di, Princess of Wales.”

 

The stranger ignored Jenny’s comment.

 

That’s odd, thought Barny, Sam’s name wasn’t mentioned, and I’ve never seen Joshua around here before. How’d he know Sam’s name? His accent is not Welsh, European or American. He sounds like the Jordanian exchange student Moshe David, who graduated last year.

 

“Are you a new student?” asked Meg.

 

“No Megan,” he answered, “I just travel around telling stories and helping people.”

 

He did it again, thought Barny.

 

“Well boss,” offered Sam Katuzo, “we do need a Rood character, but how do we know that you can really play the part?”

 

“All we need,” grumbled Jenny “is another line bumbler.”

 

Joshua smiled, “I assure you that I know my lines perfectly.” He added, “Even if you think I’m an add-libber, I promise you, we’ll bring down the house.”

 

“Well boss,” said Sam, “There’s no doubt that you are a likable guy, but I still don’t know if you are right for the part.”

 

“O.K. Sam,” chuckled Joshua, “Let’s negotiate. If I best you in sword play, great warrior, may I play the part?”

 

“What?” guffawed Sam. “It wouldn’t be a fair fight! I’ve taken fencers I have to address as Maestro. You’re talking to the Yokozuna of sword fighting!”

 

Megan stamped her foot and exclaimed, “Gee Whiz! You’re good but not that good. And isn’t a Yokozuna a champion Japanese wrestler? Get off your high horse Samurai Sam. Give him a go!”

 

“He does seem to know the play,” commented Myles, “but I’m not sure if he knows that he’s supposed to lose the match.”

 

Barny’s pulse quickened. Could this be the real Rood? he wondered. He watched Joshua vanish into the crowd.

 

“O.K. Meg,” growled Sam, “Joshua can play the part. And I know Yokozuna isn’t a swordsman ranking, it was just a comparison.”

 

Who’s going to play the village idiot character? wondered Barny. He watched the acting troupe scatter. Samurai Sam, whirling his sword, strode jauntily towards the fire pit and guardhouse next to the Meditation Park gate. Anticipating their every move, Barny focused on Sam/Celtic Warrior and the Pages. While Sam positioned himself between the fire pit and the guardhouse, the Pages, dressed in playing card tunics and pantaloons, provided a short narrative.

 

Sam/Celtic Warrior paced in front of the guard house singing a bawdy song. The crowd began singing the verses with him. Stopping in mid verse, he pointed towards the Meditation Park and cried, “Who be there? Come out and identify thy self!”

 

Joshua exited the Meditation Park and stepped around the gate. “Greetings Celtic Warrior. I be Joshua the Rood.”

 

Hmm, mused Barny, he was supposed to simply identify himself as The Rood. So he’s already add-libbed, but it’s close. How will he deviate next? If he wins, rather than loses, I’ll wager that he plays the role according to Grand mamma Abigail’s version.

 

“What want ye, O’ traveler of rude manner and low birth?” guffawed Sam/Celtic Warrior.

 

Laughter erupted from the crowd.

 

Joshua the Rood replied, “To bless yon people and regale them with tales true but hard to ken.”

 

Well that is straight from the script, thought Barny, but both scripts are alike with this line.

 

“So ye are a bard?” replied Sam/Celtic Warrior, feigning anxiousness, “Why didn’t ye say so?” He asked, “Did the High Druid of Hu send ye? And if so, why are ye not dressed in a color of the order?”

 

“Nay, the Druid Master sent me not,” replied the scarlet robed Rood, “I am here of my own free will, to preach the Kingdom of Heaven, to feed the poor and set the captives free.”

 

“Then Joshua the Rood,” exclaimed Sam/Celtic Warrior, “I cannot let ye enter the village!”

 

“Thou shalt not prevail,” replied the Rood solemnly.

 

“Die ye stubborn beggar,” shouted Celtic Warrior/Sam as he leaped at the Rood. His sword sliced air as Joshua stepped aside.

 

Joshua sidestepped. He then drew, as if from the air, his sword. Made of wood, the swords clunked rather than clanged. Barny noticed that Sam used several steps and combo moves common to fencing. While Sam was definitely the aggressor in their waltz-like dance of blades, the Rood seemed only to move defensively. Sam, playing his Celtic Warrior role, used every bit of his boasted skill in his attempt to pierce the Rood’s guard. His frustration continued to build as he unsuccessfully attempted to strike through the Rood’s lightening swift parries. Frustrated, Celtic Warrior/Sam finally spat his line, “Ye are too brave to die Rood. You may surrender, but as my guest, to sup at my hearth.”

 

“I accept your surrender great warrior,” add-libbed the Rood. Following the comment, Celtic Warrior/Sam’s sword flew out of his hands and tumbled across the courtyard. Sam’s face turned beet red as he clutched his arm and wrist to his bare stomach.

 

Barny, using his lip reading skills, was privy to dialog unheard by the audience.

 

“You dame na idiot!” whispered Sam heatedly, as he cradled his wrist. “Hey boss, don’t you know the script? And thanks for spraining my wrist!”

 

Joshua smiled as he lightly touched Sam’s arm. “Better?” the Rood asked. Joshua added, “Our deal was that I could have the part if I won- – -”

 

“I thought you were just being theatrical!” replied Sam, “You were supposed to lose! You’d better learn to follow the script.” Following a faint round of applause and a few boos, Joshua and Sam bowed.

 

Sam muttered a string of Japanese and British profanity, but then he sighed, and whispered to Joshua, “And I’m sorry about being such a baby about my wrist. It must not have been sprained after all. And” admiration evident in his tone, he asked, “where did you learn to be such a Grandmaster of the Blade?” He paused and then added, “You’d better start following the script Boss! Scene two doesn’t start until tomorrow, so we have time to go over it.”

 

Joshua replied gently but firmly, “But I am following the script. The original one. And scene two starts now.”

 

Barny’s deformed mouth gaped wide, and his heart started to pump wildly as he watched Joshua the Rood climb the hill where he lay beneath the bard statue. He watched as the Rood exited the commons where the Rood and Druid play was customarily enacted. Time stood still as Barny observed the scarlet robed Joshua’s long ground eating strides. By the time Joshua was standing over him. Barny was trembling, and tears seeped out at the edges of his eyes.

 

Barny heard the words, “Rise up and walk.” Taking the Rood’s outstretched hand and feeling the warmth of Joshua’s long tapered fingers, which emerged from his fingerless gloved hand, Barny stood, tall and clean-limbed Barny’s tears flowed freely as words of thanks gushed from his perfect lips. Joshua added, “You are no longer Dingle the Village Idiot. You are now Jingle the Jester. For it is written, ‘we are fools because of YeShua HaMashiach, and ye are wise in Him; we are ailing, and ye are strong; ye are glorious, and we are dishonored.’”

 

Wiping the tears from his face with his sleeve, Barny said, “I’ve been waiting for you. Grand mamma said you’d come!”

 

Joshua smiled that warm, dazzling smile that made him such a magnetic personality. He said simply, “You are very welcome Barny,” as both the theatrical troupe and a large group of the assembled crowd started appearing around them.

 

“Are you the crippled guy who always hobbles around on those metal sticks?” asked a student in the crowd.

 

Another bystander, Professor Zuel, gazed up and down Barny’s body and at the aluminum forearm crutches lying unused on the grass under the lilac bush. Where formerly, Barny’s body had been hunch- backed and twisted, and his face malformed to the point he was hard to look upon, now he stood straight and possessed handsome, finely chiseled features. The difference between the old Barnabas Abjingles, and the new one, physically, was like the difference between night and day.  Zuel asked Barny several questions, exclaimed “Well I never!” and stormed off down the hill. Some of the crowd was silent and in awe; others muttered angrily.

 

“Blimey!” exclaimed Meg, “it’s a miracle!”

 

Myles, his straw hat in his hands, bent out of shape from his wrangling, finally commented, “You were right as rain about your add-libbing bringing down the house!”

 

Just then Taliesin appeared with the angry professor and two beefy security guards. The chancellor’s eyes blazed above his wide but forced smile. “Master Barnabas,” he said, with the clipped and icy syntax he reserved for disliked inferiors, “I am happy for you. Really I am.” Clearing his throat for effect and using his most thunderous orator’s voice he continued, “But I must insist, for reasons of health and welfare, you must return to your house and rest. You have had one too many adventures today!” He signaled for the security officers to take him away.

 

“I’m not crippled anymore, and I don’t need an escort!” snapped Barny. The security officers looked even more confused as the formerly crippled young man, who here-to-for could only mumble and grunt, was speaking clearly and intelligently. The crowd began to mutter, some in defense of Barny and some because they did not like what they had witnessed.

 

“We’ll discuss this later,” replied Taliesin. He turned to the assembled crowd and said, “Disperse! Go enjoy yourselves in the carnival area; the commons and this hill are closed for cleanup and will reopen tomorrow.”

 

Chancellor Taliesin turned his blazing eyes on the theatre troupe. “Since good has come of this faux pas, to a member of my family, I will overlook it just this once.” Eyes dark, reflecting the acid sarcasm in his voice, he stared at each actor in turn. Only the Rood kept his head up. “Please correct me if I am wrong. According to the play, the warrior character is supposed to win the skirmish and then get the Rood character drunk!” Also, he added, after clearing his throat, “The village wazzock is not supposed to be healed. If you cannot perform the play correctly, I will find actors who are capable of following the script.”

 

“I am sorry sir,” explained Sam, “but—”

 

“You have not been directly addressed Master Katuzo!” interjected the Chancellor frostily. He added, “However since you have elected yourself spokesman, I do have a question for you.” Hayil scanned the bystanders and asked, “Where is that new actor who caused this hullabaloo? I don’t believe I know him.” He snapped his fingers, “Security. Find the Rood character. I wish to speak with him.”

 

Hayil turned on his heel smartly, his black brooding festival cape, which looked more Dracula than Druid, flowed behind him as he descended the hill in the direction of the Admin Building. Murmurs rippled through the crowd as they started walking towards the carnival lot. Barny laughed and said to the remaining members of the troupe, Sam, and Meg, “I wouldn’t worry. I expect that Joshua will be back in time for the play, if not before.”

 

Meg, hands on her hips, asked, “Who the heck is he mates? First, he heals Barny Abjingles here, then he just walks into the crowd and disappears.”

 

Barny’s rumbling stomach announced that he was hungry. I’d sure like some of that carnival food, he thought. “I’m going back to my guest house to get some coin. Maybe I’ll see you guys later at the carnival or in the pub for a pint of ale.” He grabbed his crutches, carried them over his shoulder, and left Sam and Megan discussing the day’s events. Leaving them to puzzle out the happenings, Barny left the crowds behind and bee-lined for his house. Amazed to the point of giddiness, he kept touching his lips, flexing his limbs and staring at his newly healed body. Isn’t God wonderful, mused Barny. I am starting to understand why Grand mamma Abjingles had such deep faith. God really did use the Rood to heal me! Barny raced, leaping and skipping and praising God, all the way back to the guest house and charged through the screen door. As it slammed behind him, he smelled food and once more his belly rumbled. He put his crutches in a large pot that held a number of walking sticks and umbrellas, before entering the main room of his cottage. Mmm, thought Barny, that sure smells good. I can still get some carnival food later. What did my care provider make for me today? It smells like fried fish, fresh out of the oven bread, peas and home churned sweet butter. When Barny entered the dining room, he blurted, “Joshua, how did you get here?”

 

“Your nanny is an old friend of mine, Barny.” He gestured to the table which was laden with food. “She put together a fine repast for us. And it just happens to be one of my favorite entrees, cooked fresh fish!”

 

“Where is she?” asked Barny, “I can’t wait to show her that God healed me!”

 

Joshua poured chilled water from a red glass pitcher into tall clear glasses as Barny joined him at the table. “Miss Cromwell had urgent business to attend to in England. I agreed to hang around for a few days. She said she’d make a trunk call and let you tell her all about it later. She was very happy for you. Since you are of age and healed, you probably won’t need her services for much longer.”

 

“That’s true. I will miss her. The venerable miss is like a favorite Auntie.”

 

Barny accepted the proffered basket of warmed sliced bread and crock of butter. Barny was just about to stick a fork into his breaded cod fillet when he stopped and said, “We didn’t pray. Miss Cromwell always prays first.”

 

Barny offered prayer, and afterward as they ate. Joshua smoothed a wrinkled section of the blue and white checked table cloth and said, “You’ll find that I don’t always follow tradition. Sometimes I thank Father for all of my meals before the dawn. At other times I may even thank Him after the meal! I could tell by your glowing face, before you entered the room and after, that you have been thanking him, without uttering words, for His great bounty. Whether you pray silently or out loud, Father always enjoys the thanksgiving and praise of His children.”

 

After gulping a large fork of flaky fish meat, Barny asked, “What’s your favorite Bible story? Mine is the story of Joseph.”

 

Joshua chewed a spoon of peas before replying, “Actually Barny, I’m rather fond of them all. If I were forced to choose an Old Testament story, it would be where the Lord had lunch with his friend Abraham. In the New Testament, my favorite story is where Jesus ascends to the Father, after having completed all things necessary to redeem His people – past, present, and future. There were forty days that Jesus stayed in Jerusalem, before ascending in the presence of many witnesses. All of what happened during that time is not recorded in the scriptures. Let’s just say that it was a very interesting time.”

 

“I’ve never heard that before.”

 

“Few people have. And remember this is just something I’m sharing with you. Don’t make a doctrine out of it.”

 

“So where did Jesus go?”

 

“I will share more at a later time.”

 

Barny and Joshua finished with caramel pecan topped apple pie. “Where do you think Sam, Megan, and the others are at this moment?

 

Barny thoughtfully chewed his last bite of apple pie before answering, “They probably stopped at the carnival, but I would expect that by now they are at the Bard’s Harp Pub. It’s across from the car lot. Many students, since it is so close, stop by and have a pint or two before heading across the bridge and leaving the island. Except for the Karn twins. They’re workaholics. They sleep four to six hours a day and work the rest. They even get paid for doing the play!”

 

“Since we have finished Barny, why don’t we go visit them at the pub?”

“Over here!” cried Meg, waving her arms wildly as she spotted them entering the front door. She jumping jacked up and down, belly-stone glittering like a lighthouse beacon in the dim light, as she continued her attempt to get their attention. Barny noticed that most of the establishment’s employees, as well as the patrons, wore costumes.

 

Buxom waitresses, balancing trays of wine and ale, glided among the thick oaken tables that had been dented and scratched by countless pewter tankards. Lilting tunes played by Irish Rover clones drifted from a juke box as desultory conversation and clouds of tobacco smoke drifted around the inn.

 

“Hey Boss,” said Sam as he thumped Joshua on the back, “I didn’t know if we’d see you again after the chancellor bawled us out.”

 

High energy chords from the Irish Punk Band, “Flogging Molly,” pushed the decibel limit as the jukebox pumped out a song about a factory girl.

 

Meg chuckled and added, talking in street brogue, “Blimey Barny, people are goyn-ta think you are an acta if you keep hangin’ wi’ us!”

 

Myles said, “We need a village idiot—”

 

“Miles that was rude!” snapped Jenny.

 

“Don’t worry about it,” replied Barny.

 

“By the way Barny, how are you at remembering lines?” asked Jenny.

 

“Would you like me to recite your five-minute presentation, from last 17 May, on King Midas, given for Zuel’s Greek Mythology class?”

 

“You can remember that?” asked Jenny.

 

“Yes,” replied Barny, “It started, ‘Uhhm, this dude named Midas was uhhm King of Phrygia and uhhm he – the King Midas guy- asked the gods to make uhhm everything he touched turn uhhm into—”

 

“Stuff it Barny!” snapped Jenny,  “You made your point!” She added, “And I didn’t say uhhm that many times!” She turned to Myles, “You were there. Tell him that I didn’t say uhhm that many times.”

 

“Gee Willies Jen! How am I supposed to remember that?”

 

Jenny elbow-jammed her boyfriend in the ribs, causing Myles to grunt loudly as he sloshed his ale into his lap.

 

Sam laughed, spewing his ale over the table’s occupants.

 

Both Meg and Jen chorused almost in stereo, “Ewwww!”

 

Myles grumbled, “Great Crivvens!”

 

Barny wiped ale off from his arm and exclaimed, “I feel like celebrating! Next round is on me.”

 

“Domo arigato,” said Sam. He chugged his remaining ale, wiped at the bedaubed blue body paint symbols on his neck and chest, and then belched. Sam smiled distractedly and then shouted, “Hey barmaid! Over here.”

 

Jenny snapped, “Gaawwd Sam you’re a friggin’ dyn crai – crude should be your middle name! We can put up with your dog with fleas scratching, belching and spraying beer, but if you start trumpeting, Sam we’ll walk out on you. Megan, Myles and I have done it before. And we’ll do it again.”

 

Sam replied, “I promised you I wouldn’t puff on purpose anymore and I’ve kept my word. So go take a flying fink, Jen!”

 

Meg leaned her willowy body against Barny. She asked, “What is your nanny going to say when she finds you have been drinking? She’s a churchgoer, isn’t she?” Megan poked her finger at him and added, “Drinking is a sin you know!”

 

Barny opened his mouth and closed it again. Blushing, he turned to Joshua with a what-do-I-say-now look.

 

When Sam saw the look pass between them he groaned, “Hey, don’t tell me that you two are religious nuts! No way!”

 

“Are you really Bible Thumpers?” asked Myles.

 

Barny replied, “I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

 

Various states of amazement were etched on the countenances of the gathered troupe.

 

Joshua smiled his winning smile, and then gently tugged at his curly beard. “What do you think? Hmmm? I believe in the Creator God who sent His only son YeShua HaMashiach. For this is the way God loved the world: that he gave His unique Son, so that all those trusting in him shall not perish, but have eternal life.”

 

He turned to Barny and continued, “Barnabas, you must make your own decision. There are religious traditions that say any alcohol consumption is sin. If one picks and chooses between scripture verses, one may build a case for no consumption. If you choose that route and honor the Father with it, that is fine, but you lose any benefit you would seek to gain, if you condemn others, for not joining in the expression that grace allows for you. When you seriously consider all that is written concerning alcohol without filtering it through certain doctrinal or personal expectations, what will you find? That to be a drunkard is a sin. Even YeShua HaMashiach drank wine, but he was not a drunkard!”

 

“What will you have?” asked the barmaid.

 

Barny replied, “I’ll have a sack of wine. Bring fresh glasses. I guess as long as I don’t consume enough to get the whirlies I’ll be o.k.”

 

“Get the house strawberry! It’s rad!” exclaimed Jenny.

 

“I’ll pass on the wine barmaid, just bring me another ale and two baskets of cheese and crackers,” said Sam.

 

“Let’s have a toast, mates,” suggested Meg, “to our group and Barny’s continued health!”

 

“Guess you’d better bring me a wine glass too,” said Sam to the barmaid, “I guess I’ll have to try some of your Welsh Saki.”

 

“I’ll have a tall glass of water please,” said Joshua. He added, “I once made a promise to other friends of mine not to drink any wine until I meet with them again.”

 

Jen exclaimed, “Hey Miracle Man, how about turning that water into wine when it gets here!”

 

Joshua turned to her briefly; his eyes measured and weighed her before he replied nonchalantly, “You sound like a woman I once knew. No, that is not my intention. I like water. Interestingly enough that first miracle was a miracle, but very few people understand the method used. There is a conspiracy website that actually nailed it. But that is a mystery that will not be demystified today or in the near future, for any present.”

 

Following the toast, Sam said, “Now that we’ve had some fun and we are all here, we should discuss the script.”

 

Just then Barny noticed a pale, extremely thin young girl, with messy, short blond hair, as she peeked into the pub. He watched her slink to the loo. She returned with buzzed blond hair and then slipped into a recently vacated booth. She licked her lips and eyed the remaining food and nearly empty ale pitcher. Cleaner than when she’d entered the restroom, her clothes were still wrinkled, and tiny flecks of weeds, hair, and grass stuck like lint to her gray, thread bare sweater and black sweat pants. She poured the ale into a glass and quickly chugged it down. The girl gobbled a handful of French fries and two gristly chunks of discarded roast beef. She grabbed a dill pickle and slipped it into her pocket. Next, she drank both untouched glasses of water. After grabbing five “round pounds” of tip money, she prepared to make her exit.

 

Cursing from behind the bar a bald, portly gentleman dressed in an emerald green, high collared robe, pointed a pudgy finger in her direction. He grabbed the white towel draped over his shoulder and threw it across the room in her general direction as he yelled, “You li’l @#$%&^% waif. I’ll tan yur thievin’ hide if I catch you in here again, you @&#^%# street urchin!”

 

Barny muttered, “She needs our help,” as the girl ran from the pub.

 

He and Joshua rose as one and vacated the pub. “Save our spots mates,” asked Megan as she followed.

 

“Sure thing boss,” offered Sam as he rubbed another blue symbol off his dark skin and quaffed his ale. He rolled his eyes as he watched the trio exit, grabbed his pitcher and then refilled his tankard. Myles and Jenny quietly sipped their drinks.

 

“Where could she have gone?” asked Barny.

 

“She’s probably hiding under the channel bridge or in the old dock shanty under the abandoned lighthouse,” replied Meg.

 

Joshua was already following the path that led down to the sea. Barny and Megan followed him through piles of fallen walls and moss etched, rain-rotted lumber stacks, thickly weed draped mounds that wriggled among the heaps, like masses of fleeing snakes. As the threesome picked their way down the slope, through waist high oat grass, the thin urchin girl emerged from behind a pile of debarked and sun-bleached timbers that had somehow resisted the time lapse march of weedy carpeting common to most of the wood piles. Stepping lightly, but with her body tensed, like a frightened doe, her eyes darted hither and thither as she approached them.”

 

“Who are you? What do you want?” the gamine girl squeaked in a scared child-like voice.

 

“Do you need food or money or a place to stay?” asked Barny.

 

“Hi,” said Megan, “I’m Megan Sanders. I have a billet if you are interested.”

 

Joshua smiled as he looked deeply into her eyes. She became lost in his serenity and the kindness that ebbed almost tangibly from his vicinity. He said, “Hello, Jodi, my name is Joshua.”

 

Fear replaced the girl’s brief calm, “How do you know my name?”

 

Joshua’s voice remained calm and level. “I could give you many answers, Jodi, all of them true.” He paused, “There are posters tacked about that have your photo on them. Your parents are looking for you.”

 

“My Mum and step-dad don’t love me!” she snapped. “Old man moneybags sweet talked her into sending me away to a boarding school.”

 

“They still love you, and they won’t make you go away,” promised Joshua.

 

“Who do you think you are, Joshua, my blimmin’ guardian angel?” asked Jodi.

 

Meg offered, “Why don’t you come home with me.”

 

Jodi stepped back one step, “I’ll think about it. If you don’t bloody turn me in, maybe I’ll come visit you. I don’t need no charity. I can take care of myself.”

 

Megan pulled a pen out of her pocket and a folded up flyer from the carnival. She backed up and wrote on Barny’s back. He was surprised but allowed her the liberty. After she’d finished scrawling her number and address, she’d handed it to Jodi.

 

Jodi looked at it, refolded it, and then put it in her pocket.

 

Barny reached into his pocket and pulled out a few five pounds sterling bank notes. He put them into her hands. Jodi looked surprised, looked down at her shoes, and mumbled, “Thanks for the quid.” It looked as if she was about to run off. “I live in the guest house at the college. If you need anything, just let me know.”

 

“Why are you running Jodi?” asked Joshua as he pulled out a burlap sack from his pack and handed it to her. Jodi jumped as if struck but took the bag. Reaching inside, she pulled out a breadstick, and wolfed it down. “I know who you are, Joshua the Rood! I was watching the festival today. I want to accept your mercy, but I can’t. I just can’t!” Weeping, she jumped away from them and started running. Over her shoulder, she cried, “Why can’t you just leave me alone!”

 

“Gee whiz! What the heck did she mean by that?” exclaimed Megan. “She didn’t have start the waterworks and blast off like that. We were just trying to help.”

 

Day two of the Rood and Druid Festival had arrived. Thirty minutes before the noon hour, the troupe had gathered in the meditation park to discuss the play.

 

“I don’t care what happens! I want to follow Joshua’s script,” said Barny.

 

“Hey Boss!” yelled Sam, “You heard your uncle. If we screw this up, we’re toast!”

 

“You have said it Samurai Sam!” said Joshua. He added, “The chancellor will indeed be watching us today. Just waiting for an excuse to get the new troupe he promised if we don’t follow his script.”

 

“If we start early,” suggested Myles. “Maybe we can get over with it before Hayil has time to stop us.”

 

Jen piped up, “I think it will get us expelled, but I bet Daddy can buy me back in anyway.”

 

Megan added, as she nibbled at her lip, “Barny told me about what his Grand mamma Abigail told him, about the real script. And the real script doesn’t have a nasty shag! I don’t want to do that scene again if I don’t have to! And frankly, I think it is dastardly the way the real story has been hidden. I want to give Joshua’s version, the real one, a go!”

 

Sam Katuzo exclaimed, “I think this is stupid and I feel like strangling all of you!”

 

“But,” replied Joshua, “You are still planning to help us.”

 

“Hai. Of course. Call me Wonkers,” answered Sam, “but all of you are my friends. And odds are, if I quit the troupe, I won’t be acting in the new one anyway.”

 

Willie and Billy, the twin Pages shrugged and said, almost in unison, “We just announce the next act.”

 

“Great!” exclaimed Joshua, “And you haven’t even listened to my idea yet.” He smiled at everyone and asked, “What is our next scene?”

 

Sam answered, “The scene where the Rood preaches about the Kingdom of Heaven.”

 

“Good answer!” said Joshua. He added, “I have another question. Counting scene one as the introduction of the troupe, how does scene four, Kingdom of Heaven, of the new politically correct version, differ from my version?”

 

“Hey Boss, how should we know? We’ve never seen your script. You just keep add-libbing and stealing the Bejabberin’ show!”

 

Joshua smiled enigmatically and asked, “Back to my question. What’s the difference? Anyone else care to try?”

 

Barny replied, “There’s not much difference. Except that in the common version I’m still a wazzock named Dingle the Idiot and the Rood gets pelted with rotten fruit.”

 

“That is correct Barny!” Joshua added, “I’ve suffered worse than that.”

“I think I know what you are planning,” said Barny, “We’ll do act four. The chancellor will be satisfied that we‘re following the original script. Then after you make your bow. . . well, actually I’m supposed to be sitting near you, so we will make our bows together at the end of the scene. Then we’ll wait a few minutes and have the Pages introduce the next act, instead of waiting until tomorrow noon. If security hasn’t picked you up yet, Uncle Hayil must have told them not to worry about bringing you in. After we start scene five early and go back to the politically incorrect script, he’ll probably reissue that order, but we’ll have to deal with that when it comes.”

 

“Excellent!” exclaimed Joshua as he, Barny and the Pages prepared to leave the park. “Why don’t the rest of you remain here and stay ready for scene five! We will set up for a quick switch to scene 6 as well.”

 

When Joshua and Barny exited the Meditation Park, one Page placed the scene flag and the other Page called for volunteers to throw rotten fruit. Dozens of gallon buckets of rotten fruit were ready at the commons perimeter.

 

Joshua stood at the Town Square platform, next to the scene flag. Barny sat on the grass, leaning back against the platform. Barny, acting the part of Dingle the Idiot, the character from the politically correct version of the play, made foolish faces at the crowd and jiggled his jester cap bells.

 

Chancellor Taliesin and cadre of security personnel stood behind the Town Square, arms folded across their chests, watching Joshua and Barny.

 

Joshua rubbed the palms of his fingerless gloves briskly and then lifted his hands to gather the crowd’s attention. Reciting words from the thirteenth chapter of Matthew he began, “The Kingdom of Heaven is likened to a man which sowed good seed in his field. . .” A few people began tossing fruit which splattered across Joshua and Barny/Dingle the Village Idiot, but most listened.

 

Following the recitation of a few parables, he began quoting from the third chapter of John. The crowd grew restless. Joshua concluded, “And this is the condemnation, light has come into this world, and men loved darkness better than light, because their deeds were evil.”

 

One of the crowd jeered, “I think I liked it better when he didn’t follow the blimmin’ script. Another railer added, “I didn’t come here to be preached at!” He threw a rotten tomato at the Rood. “Wang’em!” chanted the crowd. Volunteer fruit throwers added their own barrage in earnest.

 

Chancellor Taliesin’s laughter reverberated through the commons as Joshua the Rood and Barny/Dingle the Idiot were pelted with rotten fruit. One brave fruiter ran up behind the two and dumped an entire five-gallon bucket filled with fruit, barbecue sauce and sticky pastry fillings over their heads. Cheers erupted from the crowd. Hayil laughed again and dismissed his security team and walked back to the Admin building. Once the buckets were empty, Joshua and Barny walked into the Meditation Park. Quickly removing transparent rain suits Joshua and Barny prepared for the next scene. They both cleaned off their heads, hands, and shoes as well, using a five-gallon bucket of water and some towels that had been stashed there just before noon. Megan handed Barny a new jesters cap. Myles and Jen took the back door exit towards the stage barn. Joshua and Barny exited the Meditation Room and walked towards the Karn twins. Before the crowd had dispersed entirely, Page 1 planted the scene 5 flag and the second Page narrated. “Today dear audience, our troupe will perform the scene where the Rood attempts to help the poor farmer and his wife.” The Karn twins had already set up the props necessary for the farm scene of the play. Willie Karns continued his spiel, “Travel with us to the farm.” They then skipped, in their playing card costumes, as they led the way to the new set.

 

Myles/Farmer opened the doors into the basement of the farm set. He petted a black Castlemartin cow as he waited for the crowd to assemble around the set. When most of the crowd had gathered Poor Farmer/Myles said, “Wife fetch me. . .”

 

“A bucket my good husband,” said Jenny, playing her part, as The Farmer’s Wife. She continued, “For what good it will do ya, Ol’ black cow is dry as a bone.”

 

“Ye be right as rain, good wife,” lamented The Poor Farmer as he milked his cow. “I be lucky if she hath giv’n enough to fill a thimble.”

 

“Try pullin’ the bloody tale, mate!” jeered a spectator. “And if that don’t work grab the other pair of wabbies!”

 

Joshua and Barny entered the barn.

 

“Greetings fine folks,” said Barny, making the persona switch from the politically correct Dingle the Village Idiot, to playing his role, from the politically incorrect version, “I be Jingle the Jester.”

 

“I know who ye be,” replied The Poor Farmer’s Wife/Jenny, “Who be your friend and what doth he want?”

 

Myles/Farmer tipped his hat with his free hand and swiped at a few buzzing flies, “Be that really thee, Jingle?” He added, “I’ve nary seen ye walk or heard ye speak before.”

 

“I be he!” exclaimed Jingle. “The Rood hath healed me!”

 

“I nary ken such a miracle,” replied Myles/Farmer. “Ye must sup with us and tell us all the tale.”

 

“Dear farm folk,” said Joshua the Rood, “I have come to bless ye and pray that Father God, Creator of Heaven and Earth, come into your lives and hearts. Believe the testimony ye have heard Poor Farmer, repent and make your peace.”

 

“Me thinks ye are a silver tongued beggar,” replied Jenny/The Poor Farmer’s Wife. She added, “I ken not what my husband be thinkin’. We have one stale loaf of bread, one rotten apple and a bite of last fall’s jerky. We ate our last root-cellar tuber yesterday, and this morning a crafty fox ate our last chicken and the eggs it hath laid.”

 

“I promise thee, woman,” said Joshua the Rood, “if ye share with us what ye have, that from this day forward, for many generations, not a more prosperous farm will be found on the whole isle.”

 

“Well Mum, what do you think?” asked Myles/The Poor Farmer.

 

“If I nay say it, ye’ll always be flappin’ ye smackers about it,” replied Jenny/ The Poor Farmer’s Wife.

 

“Come ye into my house, Rood and Jingle!” said Myles/The Poor Farmer. The four actors climbed the short steps into the open staged upper set. Like each of the other sets, they were designed and set up so that the festival attendees could stand at the inside edge of the commons and watch the play. The inner walls of each open-faced building were painted and filled with the necessary stage props to make an authentic interior. Myles invited the Rood and Jingle to set at their rough board table. Jenny pulled a box from under the table and then retrieved its contents. She placed the three baskets and four wooden trenchers as well as four cups and wooden spoons, on the table.

 

Joshua the Rood prayed, “I be asking Ye, Father, to multiply this poor farmer’s food and give him fields and herds.”

 

“Tis true,” said Jingle/Barny, “farm folk that ye haven’t much.”

 

Jenny/Farmer’s Wife tipped up the three baskets, one with the dry loaf, the other with the rotten apple, and the last with a sliver of dried meat.

 

Joshua the Rood said, “Farmer, pass me yon bowls and take ye bucket of milk and fill the cups.”

 

“Are ye daft man!” cried The Farmer’s Wife/Jenny, “They be not a sip of milk.”

 

Barny, playing his part as Jingle said, “Have faith. Try ye I pray. The Rood will keep his word!”

 

Myles, playing his part as The Poor Farmer, poured the contents of the nearly empty bucket into the four cups all the way to the brim. He exclaimed, “Bless my soul, wife! My bucket still has milk in it! Blessed be the Father, Creator of Heaven and Earth and sender of the Redeemer Son.”

 

Subdued applause rippled through the audience. Joshua tossed apples, bread and dried beef around the table. He filled the four trenchers with food and then sat three full baskets on the table.

 

Jenny whispered to Myles, “Where did the Pages find these trick baskets, they work great!”

 

“Be sure, blessed farm folk, to thank God for ye new herd of kine.”

 

Thirty odd South Wales Blackies stampeded over the hill bellowing, hooves chopping up the commons and clicking against the cobblestones, then milled about the farm stage set, chomping grass and the piled hay that had been scattered inside the barn. Joshua, Barny, Myles, and Jenny bowed and exited as the bovines clogged the commons.

 

“Sorry chaps,” exclaimed an old farmer, dressed in bib overhauls and a white t-shirt, “my bossies have wandered into your commons. Musta followed after my old Bessie, the one ya borrowed for the play.”

 

Sam Samurai Katuzo stepped out of the Guard Post set, dumped coals from a Weber grill into the fire pit, and fed a box of dried sticks into the hot pile. He then set up several chunks of firewood, upright, like an uncovered teepee, over the hot coals. Sam ran the grill behind the set and came back to hunker by the camp fire. He waited for the arrival of the other actors and audience as the coals beneath the firewood began to ignite the pyre.

 

The Karn twins ran over to the Celtic guard house set and planted the Scene 6 flag and announced the play and added a brief description of what would happen in the scene.

 

Celtic Warrior/Sam arose and said, “Greetings Rood and Jingle.” He rubbed his hands together. As Celtic Warrior/Sam strutted around the fire, he rippled his muscles, showing off his well-defined chest, washboard abs and blue symbol artwork. He welcomed the Rood and Jester to his fire.

 

“Methought,” said Jingle, “to ask ye for information. Be they another in the village, other than The Poor Farmer, that our friend the Rood mayest help?”

 

Sam, playing his part as the Celtic Warrior, replied, “There be a comely wench, Magda the Barmaid. She is a slave to an innkeeper, an ornery old goat. Gwallgof be his name, because,” said the Celtic Warrior as he pointed his finger at his temple, and twirled it, “He’s a little gwallgof!”

 

“Thank ye, friend,” said Joshua the Rood, “we be off to yon inn to see, mayhap, if this barmaid be another soul in need. Joshua the Rood and Jingle/Barny exited the Guard House stage set. The crowd followed as they walked over to the Inn stage set. Megan, playing the part of the barmaid, exited the tavern with a bucket of water, and threw it onto the commons. She dropped the bucket and ran and hugged the Rood. “Is it really ye, old friend?”

 

“Yes, it is I,” as he gently exited her embrace and stepped back apace.

 

“So much has happened since we last spoke,” said Megan, playing the part of Magda, the barmaid. “You were gone, and then you were back, and it was after that an Arabian Trader I kidnapped me. He sold me to a Roman who took me to the wild lands of Gaul on a great ship. I ended up being bought by Gwallgof on the main island and brought here to tend bar and play maid for him and his wife. My new master calls me Magda to taunt me about the place I was born. He is cantankerous, and an old goat, but at least the Great Father has allowed me to live. I have talked to people about the Creator of Heaven and Earth and His only son’s sacrifice, but few have listened to my words.”

 

“Jingle,” said the Rood, meet my old friend Mary,” said Joshua.

 

“I be knowin’ Jingle when he was still Dingle,” said the barmaid. “From time to time, I would see him crawling about and sneak him food and water.” She added, “God’s truth be told, I be not at all shocked that the one you call the Rood has made you whole.”

 

“I do know yon maiden,” said Jingle, “I would hath suggested her if the Celtic Warrior had not.”

 

The Barmaid/Megan said, “Please come with me Rood and we will partake of the bread and the cup.”

 

Joshua the Rood sighed, “Ye know I canna’ do that Mary old friend.” He added, “But I shall give you my blessing, and I promise thee that from this day forward people will listen to thine testimony.” He looked over at Jingle and continued, “Please stay here with thy new friend Mary while I call forth Old Gwallgof.”

 

“Gwallgof come forth! I the Rood would speak to ye.” Myles, dressed as an old man in expensive but dirty clothes, and wearing a concealed pillow to simulate an ample gut, waddled out into the sun. The old innkeeper/Myles fell to the ground and foamed at the mouth.

 

“Look! The old sot is whirley!” cried an onlooker.

 

Gwallgof/Myles screamed, and asked in a deep, gravelly voice, “Have you come to torment me before my time?”

 

“Nay!” cried the Rood, “I have come to set the captive free! Go foul one! Leave Gwallgof now. Go spirits of the fallen ones to thy appointed place and leave it not! Go I say to ye and all your ilk and pester him no more!” The visage of evil left him. The innkeeper/Myles pretended to be confused for a moment and then smiled. Myles playing the part of the once possessed Inn Keeper jumped up and down and ran around in circles, huffing and puffing and yelling, “I be free. I be free.”

 

Joshua the Rood said, “Hence forth your name is no longer Gwallgof, but Aled, blessed Welshman, for, though old, ye and ye wife will live to a very old age and even begat children! And just as you are freed today, Mary, the Barmaid you call Magda, is also freed.” He walked over to Aled and tossed him a small sack of coins. He added, “With this gold do I redeem Mary of Magda from servitude. She is now free.” Turning, the Rood returned to Mary. He tossed her another bag of coins, “Dear Mary of Magda, ye are now a free woman and a wealthy one. I will tarry a little while in the village, and then I must be off. I will not return here during thy life time, but will always remember thy friendship. The Creator of Heaven and Earth will show you thy husband to be, and in that too ye shall have me blessing.”

 

“Thank you old friend,” said Mary/Megan.

 

Joshua bowed, said “Be blessed!” and revolved dramatically toward the audience and bowed to them. Myles, Megan, and Barny stepped forward and also made their bows.

 

Light applause followed the scenes ending. Suddenly a heckler raspberried and cried, “Blimey! Why can’t you follow the bloody script?” Another heckler yelled, “that’s not the way this blimmin’ scene ends, Rood character! You were supposed to get drunk with her, in the inn, and have a wafty crank with her under the table! You were supposed to bloody well get her knocked up!”

 

Joshua turned his back on the hecklers. The Rood’s voice rumbled thunderously and easily carried above the shouts of the crowd.  Joshua cried, “You are a perverse people! How long shall I put up with you?”

 

“Au Contraire, Mr. Rood,” bellowed the stentorian voice of the chancellor, as he arrived behind the stage set with several security guards. “How long shall we put up with you.” He added, swirling his black festival cape for dramatic effect, “Seize the Rood character!”

 

Joshua allowed himself to be taken away.

 

Barny and the other actors scattered into the crowd and gathered at the Bard’s Harp Pub. Both Pages left for work and Myles, and Jenny said they were quitting school. After “one for the road” Myles and Jenny left for home. They had already packed their car just in case they had to leave quickly. Depressed and anxious, Barny, Meg, and Sam sat drinking the day’s beer special, a brew from a small brewery in Upper Cwmbran, from a shared pitcher. Meg had grabbed a spare set of clothes from her car and was now dressed in faded stone washed jeans and a camo t-shirt with “DR. SANDERS, SG-1” stenciled in large black letters above the pocket. For wellies, she had donned a pair of navy blue Columbia hiking shoes. Barny was still dressed in his village idiot/jester costume. Hours later, much to their surprise, after they’d shared a few two-for-one house specials, Joshua entered the pub.

 

“Be of good cheer!” said Joshua the Rood. He smiled warmly as he approached his friends and sat with them. He was not dressed in the dark red Rood’s robe. His fingerless gloves and belted robe, as well as his sweats, were a drab, mottled green and tan.

“Hey, boss! They let you go?” asked Sam as he pushed away a trencher of Cawl. The remains of three dishes of Monkfish, served with laver, lay piled in the center of their table, with an empty pitcher of beer and a spare as well.

 

“No. I spoke not a word to security, and they didn’t have anything with which to charge me. When they tired of haranguing me they just left me locked in the interrogation room.”

 

“How did you get out then?” asked Barny, after he’d poured himself a glass of beer from the second pewter pitcher.

“Let’s say that it has something to do with possessing more than nine dimensions,” replied Joshua. “Believe me Barny, it is a concept much too difficult to explain right at this moment.”

 

“So,” replied Barny, after his brow unfurled, “What you are saying is that you were there but vanished and appeared here.”

 

Joshua smiled an enigmatic smile, “My dear Barny, a statement that begs the question is still a question.” He stroked his beard and then continued, “Not exactly, I didn’t appear here after I vanished from the interrogation room.”

 

Megan said, “You sure like to talk in riddles, Joshua!” She ran her fingers through her hair and turned to see what Barny would say.

 

Sam scratched his armpit, accidentally spilled beer on himself, and then burped. He wiped off the beer with his free hand. He gazed at the smeared blue paint on his fingers, wrinkled up his face, and then laughed, “Hey Boss! Are you serious or pullin’ wool?”

 

“What do you expect Sam, from a man of mystery such as myself?” Joshua looked each of them in the eyes and continued, “I will tell you all a few of the places I went on two conditions. First, you may not speak of this to anyone else. Second, you will all agree not to ask any further questions about these issues. Agreed?”

 

When Barny, Megan, and Sam had each reluctantly nodded their agreement Joshua said, “I made a few stops. Myself and two companions that you cannot see. From time to time they make themselves visible, but for the most part, they remain unseen.” Joshua whispered to himself, counted his fingers, and after a faraway look, he continued, “Jerusalem, about 0 AD, spent quite a bit of time there. And when I finish here, I’ll return there and float up into the sky, as friends like you see me off.

 

“But back to where I went. As I said, Jerusalem, 0 AD, then here in 4AD.”

 

“I went global on a few visits; most of those stopovers were across time lines. USA before it was called that. That was actually a B.C. visit. An Anasazi tribe. Those are Native Americans that lived hundreds of years before the American Indians you see in Westerns. The chieftain figured out that the Zodiac in the sky was not astrology, but the story of the Father’s promise to redeem mankind from the seed of the serpent. The Chief wanted confirmation about his belief. He was also having an issue with some giant cannibals. Eating on their tribe and capturing their children to do unspeakable things with them. My companions took care of that little problem.

 

“Machu Picchu before it was called that – – in 756.

 

“Dunbar Scotland – a little fuzzy doctrinally, but he loved the Father. That saint had a faithful heart and a very sick cow. That was in 1413.

 

“1502 Native American village, west of the Rocky Mountains When I appeared before them and talked with them about The Father’s promise and their redemption, they accepted my words. Over time, the story became shrouded in Native American mysticism. I did not travel to their land in a canoe. I was not dying of starvation and thirst, but Father had a reason that I cannot divulge, for having me go there at that time. I was not alone either. Just like when Father visited Abraham and had two angels with him, I was escorted by two angels.

“1611 Ireland. 1742 India. 1833 Polynesia. 1908 Tunguska Russia. Just like that song, ‘I’ve been everywhere man.’ Remote places mostly, tropical, desert and mountain.

 

“Where was I? Hmm? Foochow, China 1921.

 

“1985. An inn like this, along Water Street, in Eau Claire, Wisconsin, USA, to keep a certain servant of the Father from making a mistake that would have changed the course of his life. Visited him four years later, to have a fire side chat—”

 

Sam, in the process of chugging his beer, to refill it, busted out laughing and sprayed everyone with a horizontal geyser of Cwmbran’s honey, sweet wort, and ginger beer.

 

“I love your sense of humor Joshua!” exclaimed Megan as she spit back a mouthful of beer at Sam. She added, “It is so good to see you! We were all so worried about you! Why don’t you have a round with us? After a masterful tale like that, even a legendary bard would be thirsty!”

 

While Barny looked thoughtful, Sam Samuarai Katuzo, still dressed in his costume, acted out a scene from their play, pantomimed and said, “He’s a little Gwallgof, ehh!”

 

“Thank you, Megan,” said Joshua sadly, “but no thank you on the beer. For those of you who have not crossed the line already, you still have had more than enough. Would it be fair of me to encourage you to cross farther over that line? Hmm?”

 

Joshua focused his attention on Barny, “It would have been better for you, Barnabas, to have opened your house and invited your friends to break bread with you. Much better for you, if you would have sought the Father on my behalf, and eased your sorrows that way, then to have drowned your sorrows in excess libation consumption. My advice to you all is to limit your consumption of beer, break bread together daily, search the scriptures together, and learn to be friends who may share their lives and deeds doing the work of the Kingdom. And that, as a natural byproduct of your relationship with the Father, and each other, not in the manner of door to door Bible salesmen as some do.”

 

Barny looked away, Megan fidgeted, and Sam’s face hardened, but all three remained quiet.

 

Joshua smiled at them and said, “Enough said, friends about that. The real reason I have come is to offer you a piece of the action. I cannot stay because I am on my way to rescue Jodi. She is in grave danger even as we speak.”

 

“Where is she?” cried Megan.

 

“Jodi is being held captive in the island’s restricted nature preserve!”

 

“That’s not far from the campus,” replied Barny. He added, “You can see it on the mountain above and behind the mansion. We have to save her. Count me in!”

 

“Me too!” said Megan

 

“I heard what you said about the beer. And I’m thinking about it, but I’m not going to waste this either. I’m not that wrecked yet.” Sam chugged the remaining half pitcher, belched long and loud, and slurred, “Heyyy uhh Bosss. I’m right with you. I have to uhh. . .widdle. . . uhh . . . LLooo.” Sam seemed a little woozy when he stood up, but shook off his fugue and charged for the bathroom.

 

“But how are we going to get there?” asked Megan. “Three sides of it are sea cliffs. And the other side is locked with tall barb wired fencing like in that movie Jurassic Park!”

 

Barny said, “There is a secret entrance to an underground parking garage under the mansion and two one way tunnels that lead to another parking garage, up the mountain, under their Druidic lodge. There’s an elevator that goes up from there to the shrine. I heard Uncle Hayil as he explained directions to one of his acolytes once before I was removed from the mansion after my grandmother died.” He warned, “You may find this hard to believe, but the Chancellor Taliesin, although that is not his name, is one of the most powerful Druids in the world. He thinks he’s a higher life form and has no problem ordering the death of those he considers lower on the food chain like us. He keeps that place heavily guarded. Where he will hesitate to use force on the campus grounds, he will not hesitate once we cross that line into the preserve.”

 

Sam arrived back at the group, “I wasss listening. You don’t have to-to-to fill me in. How do we. . .hic-up. . . get in?”

 

Joshua interjected, “Druids guard the secret tunnel from the mansion and the main gate. However, there is a hole in the fence, back in the woods. I have recently scouted out the area.”

 

Sam asked, “What do we look for once we are inside? That’s a pretty big piece of real estate from what I’ve heard.”

 

Barny answered, “First we’ll have to look for a high place. There will probably be a trail that leads to it, but it will probably be guarded. We’ll have to take it slow. I don’t know about you, but I’m not a woodsman. The faster I walk in the woods, the more noise I’ll make. And I’ll still be noisy even if I walk carefully. The actual site will have an imitation of the famous ring-like edifice of pre-Druidic stone pillars and slabs found at the Stonehenge Monument of the Salisbury Plains.”

 

“Blimey!” exclaimed Meg, “Does the new model come with a remote control? I want to fast-forward passed those Encyclopedia Britannica definitions!”

 

“At least I don’t cuss all the time and not know it!” retorted Barny.

 

“When have you heard me swearing?” demanded Megan.

 

“Blimey, Gee Whiz and Heck,” answered Barny. “Blimey means God blind me. Heck, in general, is another name for Hell, although a few old unabridged dictionaries offer an alternative definition of the word as the specific name for the end of the tail of the devil puppet used in medieval plays. Gee Whiz is slang for God/Jesus—”

 

“Stop your bickering! This is not the time or the place for it,” demanded Joshua the Rood.

 

Barny, Joshua, Megan, and Sam, having exited the Bard’s Harp Pub, walked a round-about path and finally came to a series of copses near the preserve. Soon, as the elevation became steeper, the little groves became a dense forest. They filtered through the woods, following a small game trail, rather than the main trail.

 

Joshua the Rood was as quiet while navigating the thickets as Tolkien’s Strider the Ranger.

 

Sam had fallen back a few times to water the trees. Sweat was leeching out his alcohol toxicities as swiftly as his frequent urination. Otherwise, even inebriated, Sam seemed to possess a modicum of wood savvy, picked up from a childhood of frequent hunting and camping with his British father.

 

Barny and Megan had painfully discovered that their little lark was extremely challenging as they utilized muscles that they hadn’t realized were extant in their citified bodies. Each had picked up a few scratches, and several cockle burrs had hitched rides on them. Both were sweating even more profusely than Sam. Barny had almost sprained an ankle after stepping on, rather than over a rotten limb, which lay across the trail. Megan had almost stepped into a hole, but after quickly grabbing Barny’s arm, she had caught her balance.

 

Finally, the dense brambly forest cleared as they reached the tall mesh fence. Just as Joshua had promised, a section of the tall fencing was loose. They carefully made their way through the opening and entered the preserve. Following another small game trail that wound towards the center of the area, ascending in elevation as they progressed, they arrived at the edge of a clearing.

 

Crafted with timbers and field stone, the cromlech rose above them like a gargantuan spider. Flood lights attached to the pillars illuminated the Druidic Sanctuary, revealing a horseshoe shaped inner sanctum of festooned fertility poles. The inner U-ring, which surrounded the log alter, was formed from blue Prescelly rock. The Stonehenge replica sat on a flat area, while much of the area outside of it was steep and mountainous. While the mountainside was clearly visible from the campus, the site itself was not.

 

Stacks of firewood and occupied wicker cages held a position near the altar. Further into the great edifice was a pavilion with expensively stocked buffet tables, complete with covered stainless steel steam and chill trays that awaited the night’s activities. Mechanical humming announced the presence of a gas generator. Beyond the buffet tables was a huge circular tent of camouflage green.

 

Barny was only casually aware that his super-charged memory was cataloging the unholy shrine; he was more interested the cowled guardians and their one human captive. Several Druids were busy spinning her in a large wicker cage and taunting her.

 

“We need to keep quiet,” warned Barny.

 

Sam replied, “With the way you and Megan are breathing, it’s a good thing that those Druids are preoccupied.”

 

Ignoring Barny’s warning, the Rood charged into the center of the pagan temple. Barny and his friends raced to keep pace. He could see that his initial impression that she had been in the cage had been incorrect. Jodi was actually tied, crying and naked, to the exterior of the whirling wicker basket.

 

Sensing the presence of the others the six white-robed and two brown robed Druids jumped away from their captive to confront the Joshua the Rood and his friends.

 

One of the brown robed Druids laughed and asked, “Have you come, Rood, Fool, Barmaid, and Celtic Warrior, to torment us before our time?”

 

“I have come for the girl,” replied the Rood “and to bring warning! If you do not renounce your Nature Witchcraft and serve the living God by tomorrow at noon, you will die.”

 

“No!” replied the other brown robed Druid, in a high pitched feminine voice, “It is your stubborn, meddling, acting troupe, except for those smart enough to have skipped the country, who will die this day.”

 

“This is one dojo match you aren’t going to win Samurai Sam,” yelled a white robed Druid.

 

Another cried, “Too bloody bad that you didn’t bring your toy Katana, slant eyes!”

 

Barny thought he could place the voices of those who had spoken, from seeing and hearing them around the campus, but didn’t voice his suspicions.

 

“Remember,” screeched the lady Druid, “Capture Miss Sanders. Strip her and tie her up opposite the other wench. Capture Master Barnabas as well and toss him into an empty cage. Kill the others.”

 

“I know that voice,” whispered Megan fearfully. “It is the voice of Professor Virginia Smythe.”

 

Screaming like Banshees, the Druids, except for Professor Smythe, lifted their swords, shillelaghs, and axes, and closed to striking distance. Joshua clamped his hand on Sam’s wrist and said, “You cannot take them all! Stand down!”

 

“Joshua! What are we going to do?” cried Barnabas as his knees knocked.

 

“Nothing. We are going to stand firm!” said the Rood as every last Druid who had charged the group, fell to the ground at their feet.

 

“Attack you fools!” yelled professor Smythe. Twice more the Druids scrambled erect to strike at Joshua, Barny, Megan, and Sam. Twice more the Druid thugs fell. When they arose the third time, they scattered to the winds.

 

“Rood, this bash isn’t over yet!” Professor Smythe added, “Taliesin will kill you when he finds you’ve desecrated his doleman.” She transformed into a falcon and flew off into the shroud of dusk that was now blanketing the forest.

 

Joshua removed his exterior cloak, revealing his play costume. He handed it to Megan and said, “Go untie Jodi. She can wear this.” Joshua motioned to Barny and Sam and took them deeper into the circle of standing stones.

 

When Megan freed Jodi, the young girl was so exhausted and dizzy, that she was unable to stand. Megan wrapped Jodi’s shivering form in the Rood’s over-cloak and then held her as she sobbed convulsively.

 

“I knew some of those Druids!” exclaimed Sam. “One of the white robes sounded like my martial arts instructor. And I think the other brown robe was head of Campus Security.”

 

“It is as you say,” responded the Rood. He pulled a lantern out of his pack, lit it and handed it to Barny. He continued, “But think of the other leaders. Taliesin you know. There are many others. Mayors. Sheriffs. Doctors. Lawyers. Business owners. Even false ministers of the gospel as well as various cult, coven and lodge leaders.”

 

“What can we do? What should I do?” asked Barny.

 

Nothing, except pray and thank the Father for his intervention. Joshua the Rood retrieved an ax that had been dropped by an escaping Druid. Joshua slashed and hacked at the wicker cages, both the empty ones and those containing various animals, freeing the sacrifices. He then ripped the decorations from the Ashera poles. Barny and Sam joined in pulling down the flower chains and streamers and also helped topple the food tables.

 

Approaching the charred and blood-stained alter, Joshua the Rood uttered a guttural cry and frenziedly chopped the wooden mensa. Only when the ax handle had shattered did the Rood stop. He said, “I curse you alter!” It crumbled into dust.

 

Barny waited for a few minutes and tugged the Rood’s wrist and said, “It’s getting late. The Druids will be arriving soon for their midnight party.” He added, “Unless you are going to stay and meet Taliesin tonight at their festival, we should go.”

 

Joshua said, “Yes, we will leave now. I need to spend time alone in prayer with our Father, Jehovah. I will accompany you part way.”

 

As the group exited the desecrated Druidic Shrine, Joshua said, “Meet me tomorrow at the commons at noon so that we may complete the play. Druids from far and wide will be there for the showdown.”

 

When Barny, Megan, and Sam met in the courtyard, the next day, at high noon, to complete the play, the crowd, many of them dressed in robes of various colors, filled the exterior of the commons. Merchants, realizing that the premature end to the festival also meant that their cash cow was about to dry up, zealously marketed their goods. Barny scanned the crowd. Sam whispered, “Is he going to show?” Megan said nothing but chewed her lip. Behind them, an old bard strummed his harp. No one realized that it was a festive tune that had not been played in Wales for thousands of years.

 

“I know he’s coming,” insisted Barny. Sam and Megan shifted nervously as they stood with him and on the cobblestones that surrounded the commons. From less than ten yards away, standing on the Town Square set, Counselor Taliesin glared at the trio. Other festival attendees kept their distance from the out of favor acting troupe.

 

Taliesin’s thunderous voice echoed outward from the commons. “Honored guests I greet you. I have decided to personally perform the final act of the Rood and Druid play. I have spared no expense! In addition to employing hundreds of fine actors, we have paid a premiere special effects company. So don’t worry fine folks, the destruction of the Rood and His friends will look real, but keep in mind this is just a play, so they will be unharmed.” Hayil paused, smiled his cold icy smile and then added, “That’s why it is called acting!”

 

Barnabas Abjingles nudged Megan and Sam. Black, brown, white, blue, orange, yellow, bright red and green robed Druids poured from the crowd and also from behind the stage set from the direction of the Admin Building, to surround the actors in front of the stage, creating a sea of Druids. Mantras flowed from the cowled assembly until the sound became a tangible impression.

 

High Druid Hayil lifted his arms to still the crowd. The chanting continued but as a very low rumble. “Where is your friend the Rood, Master Abjingles? Does he have a hangover? Is he using the commode? Or dallying with Magda in yon sporting house?” Laughter rippled throughout the crowd.

 

“I don’t know where he is, but he will be here!” answered Barny.

 

“I am here!” exclaimed a voice behind them as the harp strumming of the old bard ceased. The Rood’s voice, like the Chancellor’s, except gentler, seemed to carry the width and depth of the campus and rise above the festival’s subdued cacophony.

 

“Where’d the old bard go?” asked Megan.

 

“Hey boss, it sure is good to see you,” said Sam.

 

“Hi, Joshua,” exclaimed Megan. “Jodi is still sleeping.” She added, “Joshua. . .if we die or something. . .I just want you to know. . .what you did for Jodi was really special.”

 

Joshua the Rood hugged each of his friends and then said, “Don’t worry! Everything will be fine.”

 

“Just like the real play!” replied Barny.

 

“Exactly!” replied Joshua.” He added, “Remember, I’ve read the end of the book!”

 

Triumphantly waving a scene flag, a white robed Druid announced, “Dear audience, as you know, in the final scene of the play, the Rood and his foolishly loyal friends are confronted by the Druid Mages, Priests, Priestesses, Warlocks, and Witches, for a magical duel to the death. When confronted with death and allowed the opportunity to cry pardon, they stubbornly refuse and foolishly receive their punishment.”

 

“Enough tearful goodbyes!” roared Arch-Druid Taliesin. He added, “Step thee forward onto the commons, Joshua the Rood and Company. Ye are more than a nuisance, Rood! Ye and thy friends are a menace!” Following a dramatic pause, he added, “Will ye offer truce? No? Have ye any last words, before we cast on thee all the Tongues of Fire Death Spell?”

 

Barny, Sam, and Megan remained silent.

 

Joshua the Rood replied, “Aye. Renounce thy witchery, repent, and serve the Living God, Jehovah, The Great I AM!”

 

“Enough!” cried Taliesin. “Now taste a little bit of the Hell ye preach about!”

 

A great saucer appeared from nowhere over the top of Barny and his friends. Fire drafts roared like locomotives as they rained down from the sky under the great disk.

 

“Die Rood die!” chanted hundreds of voices.

 

One of the crowd had edged too close to Joshua the Rood and his friends. The burned man screamed in agony. A security officer ran to the victim and started to beat out the flames with his jacket. Wailing from a medical siren announced the Medics, who had a tent at every festival, as they arrived on the scene, lifted the man into a gurney, and transferred him into an ambulance. Sirens screaming, the ambuvan streaked off campus towards the bridge, near the Bard’s Harp Pub, which led to the mainland hospital.

 

Booming sonic reverberations that rocked the skies, quite in reverse of its ghostly appearance, presaged the disappearance of the strange craft.

 

Grass around the acting troupe was burned, and the main stage set smoldered, but Joshua, Barny, Megan, and Sam were unscathed.

 

Hayil screamed in anger and then in fear.

 

Barny whooped and exclaimed, “Look Meg! Look, Sam! Not even singed! We don’t even smell like smoke! We’re like Shadrach, Meshach, and Abed-Nego!”

 

All attention was drawn to Taliesin. He started to spin like a Dervish, screaming all the while as he sank into the stage set. Hayil’s wailing stopped as a puff of smoke erupted from the stage set that his body had just drilled through.

 

Moments later, the same fate occurred to all but a few of the robed Druids. Most of the other Druids were on the grassy commons. When each lesser Druid entered the fatal spin, their robes crumbled to ash, before their bodies drilled into the loam beneath the turf, and then erupted in puffs of smoke. Shocked, the crowd whispered to each other as they recognized the terrified faces of certain influential persons. A few robed people in the crowd were merely wearing costumes and were unaffected by the deadly whirl of death. Here and there among the mass of dying Druids were a few men and women who had fallen to their knees, or laid prone, seeking forgiveness. Mercy had visited them, and they had been spared. Fluttering upward and forward, like ash from a bonfire, the sea breeze had carried away the last vestiges of Taliesin and his Druids.

 

Joshua the Rood turned to Barny, “There is one final act in this play, but it occurs on a global scale. Only the Father knows the hour and the day.” He paused and then said, “Barny, Megan, and Sam, my time traveling is at an end. I am returning to point zero to say good bye to my other friends before I vanish up into the clouds. I am with you always. I charge you to live holy lives, and when the wandering sheep flee to the wilderness, some will find their way here. Feed them and take care of them and I will reward you.”

 

Sam, Meg, and the audience were completely mystified when Joshua the Rood waved, then vanished without a trace.

 

Barny was not truly surprised. He knew that whether or not he met the Rood again, that true to his word, Joshua would always be with them.

 

After the Rood had made his exit, Barny turned to Sam and Megan. I’m going to go talk to those Druids who were spared. I’m going to invite them to lunch. We’ll talk about what happened, share scripture, and a meal. Who is with me?”