By Ailad's Bootstraps, Page 2

  “Yes, sir…” Ailad said, panting for breath.

  The Messenger took Ailad by the hand. “And now, we must return.”

  A brilliant column of light suddenly appeared next to them. They stepped into the light, and an instant later they were standing in the attic again. Ailad looked through the column of light and saw his other self sitting up in bed. Ailad smiled. I understand, now—a little.

  Ailad watched and waited as the Messenger gave the exact same message as the first time—or was it the second time? he thought. Then the Messenger warned the other Ailad that the Evil One would try to tempt him, and that all Sheol would soon break loose on him, but that God would protect him. Then he held out his hand to the other Ailad. “Come, Ailad,” he said.

  “Where?” the other Ailad replied nervously.

  “Follow me, and see,” he said.

  The first Ailad stepped out of the light and his other self passed by and ascended with the Messenger. Ailad retreated to his bed and sat down, overwhelmed.

  A minute later, the room began to fill with light once more. “No, not again…” he groaned. By now, he felt limp and exhausted from these heavenly visitations.

  This time the Messenger was alone. Ailad looked up at him and said, “Where is the other me? What hast thou done with me—er, him?”

  The Messenger smiled at him and said, “He has already returned to Edom, but in another place and time.”

  The thought of another Ailad wandering around made Ailad feel slightly queasy. He thought, What if I run into myself in the street, or something?

  Ailad had been wondering who he might share this vision with—if anyone.

  The Messenger read his thoughts. “Thou mayest reveal this vision to thy father—he will understand. Goodbye, Ailad.”

  The light gathered around the Messenger, and instantly he vanished. Ailad collapsed back onto his bed, exhausted.

  Chapter 3

  A moment later Ailad heard a rooster crowing. He sat up again. So, the Messenger and I must have spent the whole night together, he thought, marveling. Or was it all just a really strange dream?

  “Ailad, Hywel, boys! Time t’ get up! There be work to do!” It was Pa shouting up from below.

  Ailad tried to stand up, but his head started spinning and he nearly tumbled down through the trap door. He braced himself against the rafters and closed his eyes for a moment.

  “Ailad, art thou ill?” said Hywel as he hitched up his suspenders.

  “Nay, just a bit tired, is all,” Ailad replied. In fact, he felt limp as a dishrag.

  Ailad followed Hywel down the ladder to the ground floor, while his younger brothers waited to follow him down. He sat down heavily at the kitchen table, and Ma looked at him with concern. “Ailad my son, what ails thee?” she said, feeling his brow. “Art thou feverish? Thou’rt pale as a ghost!”

  Ailad hesitated. He had learned his lesson about lying, but it didn’t feel right just yet for him to open up about all that had happened the night before. “I, ah, slept poorly, Ma. I’ll be fine.”

  Ailad noticed Pa’s eyes drilling into him, which made him feel even more uncomfortable. Then the family all tucked into their bacon and beans and the conversation was over, to Ailad’s relief. Ailad gradually felt his strength return, a little.

  After breakfast Pa and the boys returned to the field they’d been laboring to clear for almost a month. The tough old beech and oak trees were now gone, but the field was still studded with huge stumps that must be removed. Pa was using black powder to loosen the stumps, and a team of horses to drag them away.

  All the way to the field Ailad noticed Pa eyeing him from time to time. Now Pa put Hywel in charge of the stump clearing, and took Ailad aside some distance. They sat down together on one of the stumps and Pa gazed at Ailad. “Son, what is it? What is gnawing at thee?”

  Ailad remembered what the Messenger had said, that he was allowed to tell Pa about his vision. He took a deep breath and rehearsed the whole night’s experience to Pa. It was still so vivid in his mind that he could remember every detail. When he was finished, Pa embraced him and wept. Ailad had never in his life seen Pa cry before, and it startled him. “Pa, what’s wrong?” he said as his Pa hugged him.

  “I knew this day would come, son. I’ve waited for it for nigh onto twenty turns, now, but I couldn’t speak to a soul about it. Knowest thou how happy this makes me?”

  Chapter 4

  The other Ailad walked past his former self. Just as he was about to ascend with the Messenger, he looked down and saw his Pa gaze up through the trap door. Then he rose up the column of light with the Messenger.

  He found himself standing in a very strange but wonderful place. He looked up and saw the night sky, black as ink, with countless stars shining brilliantly. Then he looked down and saw that the ground he was standing on was clear, like an ocean of glass. It glowed in fantastic shades and colors that he’d never seen before. The most beautiful, ethereal music played in time to the images. He thought, I don’t think I’m in Edom anymore. Overwhelmed, Ailad turned to the Messenger and said in a tremulous voice, “Where be this place? Am I dead?”

  The Messenger laughed. “No, thou art most certainly not dead, Ailad. This is the Bosom of Eternity, the place where all things are revealed—past, present, and future. Thou art at the very center of the Great River, near to the place where God himself dwells.”

  “Why’st thou brought me here?” Ailad said. “And who was that boy thou didst leave in my room?”

  “Why, that was thee, Ailad,” he replied.

  Confused, Ailad said, “Me? But… I’m here, not down there. How can I be in two places at the same time?”

  “Thou aren’t,” the Messenger replied. “As I said, time has no meaning here.”

  The Messenger turned and faced Ailad squarely. “Ailad, when thou returnest to Edom, thou art forbidden to speak of this event, or of thy sacred calling.”

  Ailad swallowed hard. “Calling? Aye, I promise.”

  The Messenger continued. “Upon thy return, thou wilt discover that events have… changed for thee. Do not be alarmed, there is a purpose in all of this concerning thee and thy posterity. Accept it and learn from it.”

  Ailad swallowed again. “A purpose? What purpose? …what posterity?”

  “There has been… an incident, shall we say,” the Messenger replied. “Thy bloodline must be maintained. Thou hast a great work to do, in spreading God’s sacred word throughout Edom. It will all be revealed to thee, in God’s time and place. Remember that! Art thou prepared to carry out this mission?”

  Overwhelmed, Ailad replied, “Aye, as prepared as I can be, I suppose…”

  “It is well! Thou wilt see me again, in a future time. Farewell, Ailad.”

  Chapter 5

  When the second Ailad awoke, he sat up and looked around. Instantly he recognized his surroundings. He was sitting on a small cot, in a back bedroom on the upper floor of Uncle Brynmor’s print shop in Stroma. On several occasions he had spent the night here while visiting.

  That was the most vivid dream I ever had in my life, he thought.

  When he stood up, the room immediately started spinning. Quickly he sat down on the cot again. Dizzy and exhausted, he thought, Or was it more than a dream? I went to sleep last night at my folk’s cabin outside Stroma. How did I get here?

  He heard footsteps, and in a moment the door opened. It was his Uncle Brynmor. “Ah, good morning Ailad! I trust, a good night’s sleep thou didst have?”

  “Fair to middling…” Ailad mumbled, while holding his head. The room was still turning, and he had to fight to see just one Uncle Brynmor, not two.

  “Good, good!” Brynmor replied cheerfully. “There be much work for us this day. As my ink-boy, I want thee full-up to the task!”

  “Ink-boy?” Ailad replied hesitantly. His head was still throbbing.

  Brynmor clapped Ailad on the shoulder. “My apprentice! Or hast thou forgotten? Come, breakfast awaits!”


  Headache or no, Ailad realized that he was famished. He hitched up his suspenders and followed Uncle Brynmor out of the back bedroom to the front room of the upper floor, where he saw that Aunt Tegwyn had prepared a hearty breakfast in the kitchen: Rye bread, sausage, and diced pakaat with beans. She smiled tenderly at Ailad and said, “Croeso, Ailad. Dewch, bwyta.” Welcome, Ailad. Come, eat.

  Ailad was used to hearing his aunt speak in the old Yngling dialect. He politely replied, “Diolch i chi, Modryb Tegwyn.” Thank you, Aunt Tegwyn.

  He sat down and eagerly dug into his breakfast. His aunt and uncle ate in silence, but occasionally they stole glances at him and at each other.

  Ailad’s mind was still spinning. The Messenger… he told me I would accomplish something important. Then I went to heaven, and he said something about how things would be different when I got back, but not to let it flummox me. He was right—this sure is different, but I’m still flummoxed.

  Still casting about to get his bearings, Ailad said between bites, “So… once I’ve finished my work here as an, ah, ink-boy, when can I return home to my parents?”

  Brynmor and Tegwyn both stopped in mid-bite. Tegwyn looked at Ailad, and in a shocked tone said, “Parents? Why Ailad, art thou barmy? Thou knowest, an orphan thou be, aye? ‘Tis not a thing to make light of, now then.” She shook her head and clucked in disapproval.

  Ailad sat with his mouth hanging open, but said nothing. An orphan? That caps it—this is all just one long dream that I’ll soon wake up from, right?

  Brynmor stood. “Come, Nephew, there be work for us to do.”

  Ailad followed his uncle down to the main floor where the printing equipment was arranged. Ailad had fond memories of prior visits to his uncle’s place of business, and he already knew some of the printer’s skills: typesetting, inking the press, and “pulling” sheets from the press. In fact, he had spoken to his uncle several times about becoming a pressman some day. Looks like I somehow got my wish, he thought. When will this dream end?

  Brynmor put Ailad to work cleaning and sorting several plates of used type. This was a very messy, dirty task. Ailad removed the sticks of type from the printing plate and dumped the thousands of tiny lead slugs into a bucket of warm, soapy water, and let them soak to loosen the black, tarry ink residue. Then he dumped the slugs into a bucket of rinse water. Next he removed the slugs one by one, dried them and carefully brushed off any remaining residue. Last of all, he began the tedious task of sorting the various typefaces and letters, as he placed each tiny letter into its appropriate bin in the type cabinet.

  As he worked, Ailad’s thoughts wandered. This all seems so real, and yet—nothing here makes sense. I know who my parents are, and my brothers and sisters. Are my aunt and uncle playing some kind of joke with me?

  When at last the messy task was completed, Ailad’s arms were black clear up to his elbows. Just then the front door jingled, and a very pretty young girl entered. She was about Ailad’s age, he estimated. She carried a basket covered with a checkered cloth. She approached Ailad, smiled and shyly held out the basket to him. “Hello, Ailad.”

  Flustered, he replied, “What is this?”

  “Why, lunch, silly,” she said, blushing. “Thinking I was, me and thee could sit by the river and eat…” Her voice trailed off as she noticed his blank stare.

  Ailad glanced at his filthy hands and arms and stammered, “Uh, maybe later… just set it on the table over there.”

  Now clearly embarrassed, the girl complied, and then quickly headed for the door. She glanced back over her shoulder and scowled at Ailad; then she left the building and slammed the door behind her.

  Uncle Brynmor had watched the whole awkward scene. “Ailad! Hast thou thy manners forgotten? A simple thank’e would’a helped, now then.”

  “Who was she?” Ailad said, while thinking, What else could I have done?

  Shocked, Brynmor looked at him and replied, “Why, Lleucu, thy troth she be, young man! Art thou doddering? Ach, ‘tis just as well—the river’s in full flood, and dangerous to boot.”

  That corks it, Ailad thought. Lleucu is my mother’s name. I’m either having a bad dream, or I’m going mad.

  Chapter 6

  Gradually, Ailad found his place in this strange new world that the Messenger had dropped him into. As time passed, his new life became ever more real to him, and his old life gradually faded into memories.

  Ailad learned to his surprise that besides working as his uncle’s apprentice, he was apparently an acolyte in the Cairwyn-Eglwys in Stroma. His assignment was to assist the Pregethwr or Preacher in preparing his sermons, which were always drawn from the sacred text of the Norm.

  The Norm was a huge, black handwritten book of verse which was chained to the pulpit of the church. Only a Pregethwr was permitted to read from the text of the Norm, on pain of punishment. The Norm was written in the ancient Yngling dialect, so the common people were not expected to understand it anyway.

  Pregethwr Iefan kept a copy of the Norm in a locked drawer in his office. Once a week, Ailad unlocked the drawer and selected one of the fifty-six large pages that were used for the weekly reading. After that week’s sermon, the sheet was returned to the drawer. Every thirteen months, the cycle would repeat.

  Each seventh-day, Ailad donned his black acolyte’s robe and accompanied his aunt and uncle to the Cairwyn-Eglwys. They stood with the congregation for the whole service, while Ailad assisted the Pregethwr.

  The interior of the church was vaulted and circular, with a high pulpit in the center. Ailad ascended the pulpit and stood next to Pregethwr Iefan during the service. He knew the ritual by heart—it never varied, except for the weekly reading.

  Pregethwr Iefan led the congregation in prayer and a hymn, after which everyone recited the Precept in Yngling. The words echoed off the huge, domed ceiling of the church:

  Sanctaidd Duw;

  Duw ydwyt,

  ac ti sanctaidd,

  y'th ysbryd,

  yn ysbryd,

  ac yn ysbryd

  am byth, amen.

  By now, Ailad knew the translation of the Precept by heart:

  Holy God;

  Thou art God,

  and Thou art holy,

  Thou wast a spirit,

  Thou art a spirit,

  and thou wilt be a spirit

  forever, amen.

  While the congregation chanted the Precept several times, Ailad took the huge, bound copy of the Norm, descended from the pulpit and held the book overhead as he circled the pulpit. Then he ascended the pulpit and Pregethwr Iefan took the book from his aching arms and reverently chained it to the pulpit again. The book was never opened.

  After the reading and another hymn, the congregation departed the Cairwyn-Eglwys, satisfied that they had heard the word of God for that week.

  As Aunt Tegwyn, Uncle Brynmor and Ailad walked home, Brynmor put his arm around Ailad’s shoulders. “A fine processional thou didst this day, Nephew,” he said.

  Ailad thought for a time. “Uncle, why do we go through the same ritual, every seventh-day? Doesn’t God get the point? What’s the use of it?”

  Brynmor replied, “I go to hear the sacred word of God from the Norm, Ailad—not for the ritual. Thou knowest not how sacred those words be to me—but one day, thou shalt know full-well.”

  Ailad thought, I remember sitting by the fireplace with my Pa, reading from the Norm—or do I?

  Chapter 7

  The next day, Ailad helped Pregethwr Iefan prepare his sermon from the Norm. This week’s sermon was based on the Seven Axioms.

  Iefan pointed to the First Axiom on the page and recited it to Ailad in Yngling:

  “Mae yna ond un Duw dros bawb o Edom, a dim ond bydd iddo chwi addoli.”

  “Now, Ailad, canst thou recite it in Common-speak for me?”

  “There is but one God over all of Edom, and only Him shall ye worship,” Ailad replied.

  Iefan smiled. “Good! Tha
’ll make a fine Pregethwr some day.”

  Ailad spoke. “Sir… there’s another verse from the Norm that I’ve wondered about. Knowest thou where I can find it?”

  “Yes, my young acolyte?” Iefan replied. “What is it?”

  Ailad thought for a moment. “It goes like this,” he responded.

  “A seer shall God raise up, who shall be a choice seer; him shall ye obey in all things.”

  Iefan scowled. “Where didst thou learn that verse, boy? ‘Tis forbidden to read from the sealed portion of the Norm! That trouble-maker, thy mad Uncle Brynmor, hath he been filling thy head with lies again?”

  Startled, Ailad replied, “Well, uh, no… I just heard it once… somewhere…”

  “Then we shall hear no more of it, understand?” the Pregethwr snapped.

  Iefan stood up and put his hand on Ailad’s shoulder. “That will be all for today, Ailad. Until seventh-day, aye?”

  Ailad left Iefan’s office and walked the length of the church to the front entrance. As he walked past the Dioddefwr’s booth he paused. I remember my Pa dragging me in here, clear as day. Or did he? What happened to that life? Is it still going on out there in Eternity, somewhere?

  As Ailad sat at dinner with Uncle Brynmor and Aunt Tegwyn that evening, he struggled to express his thoughts. He talked to them about his meeting with Pregethwr Iefan earlier that day. “Uncle Brynmor… why do they chain the Norm to the pulpit? Why don’t they just let everyone read it? And why is part of it sealed?”

  Brynmor put down his knife and smiled. “At one time long ago ‘twas permitted, Ailad. But then the church, they decided that the common people were too ignorant to interpret the holy words, so they chained it to the pulpit and appointed the Pregethwr to interpret it.”

  “And be that proper, thinkest thou?” Ailad said.

  Brynmor scowled. “No! Truth be told, there is something that I and thee can do about that, Ailad.”

  “Do?” said Ailad, puzzled.

  Brynmor leaned forward. “Ailad, I have been waiting long for this moment. ‘Tis my greatest desire to spread the words of the Norm to every corner of Edom! But I need thy assistance for this work.”

  “My assistance…?” Ailad said hesitantly.

  “Ailad, I wish thee to bring me the Pregethwr’s copy of the Norm—but quietly, aye? One sheet a week should suffice.”

  Ailad began trembling. “But why, Uncle? Thou knowest the penalty for profaning the Norm, now then? What if I be caught?”