Serial fiction/ Christian Fiction/Medieval Romance

The House of God — Part Three

The companions pass by the African shores and prepare for a malicious storm

A note: This short novella was written in Bulgarian in my twenties. I’ve decided to translate it and share it with you this month. I hope you’ll enjoy it!

Start with the previous parts:

April 22, year 1135

I’ve seen places of wonder I’ve never dreamed of seeing. For the last few weeks, we’ve been sailing in warm seas, full of dolphins that jump playfully by our ship; whales that spout fountains of salty pearls in the distance, and fish as colorful as the beads Kolskeg wears around his neck. The wind is warm, too, and by far, has been acting in our favor. Two times we encountered storms: happily, small ones. Peter and Kolskeg say we’re getting closer. As for me, I’ve completely lost my sense of direction. I’m on a different Earth where all known laws are no longer in operation.

We feed on the fish we catch during the day. We eat seaweed, too. I didn‘t know seaweed salad could be so delicious. We finished our water, yet it was precisely when we reached the shores. Now and then, we’d anchor at one of the coasts dipped in the golden paint of sands, mixed with green strokes of palms and shrubs. Indigenous people meet us; they have dark skin and are always half-naked, wearing necklaces of bones and pieces of wood around their necks, as well as knives and arrows on their belts. I’m no longer afraid of them: they proved to be quite friendly. Kolskeg talks to them in their language and exchanges the jewels he carries for bread and water. The people seem enchanted by the strings of precious stones and we are quite thankful for the fresh water and the peculiar crispy bread they prepare.

When we sail by the shores, I stand for hours at the rails, watching the massive clusters of rocks that dig their sharp noses into the calm blue water like a mouse would dig its nose into a plate of milk. Above me, seagulls and albatrosses move in circles, as if dancing, and the dolphins leap in and out of the sea like excited children.

I feel happy. I didn’t know I could be so happy so far away from home.

May 30, year1135

We’re reaching our destination, but for the last two days, the weather has been getting worse.

The sun has vanished, and heavy, purple-red clouds loom overhead like enormous beasts, greedily swallowing the air from our lungs, leaving us breathless and drained. A wild, hot wind is blowing in our faces. The worst part is, we’re far from any coastline at the moment.

Peter and Kolskeg are on the deck and Winston stands by them, his shoulders stooping as if there is a bag full of stones on his back. This afternoon, Peter came to see us in Winston‘s cabin. He told us:

‘A bad storm is coming. You should be ready.’

‘How bad?’ Winston let go of my arm and stood up, his head almost touching the ceiling.

‘Bad enough. We’ll beat it, though. Kolskeg and I have a lot of experience, and you just listen to us and do exactly as we say.’

Peter’s composure, instead of calming Winston, seemed to agitate him further. His face grew pale and his lower lip twitched.

‘You‘re lying,’ he said, ‘You’re lying because of Hazel. Don’t worry about her, she can take the truth. We’re not going to make it, aren’t we?’

‘We have a good chance to make it if we remain calm,’ Peter said.

‘I knew it! I knew God wouldn‘t let me get away with it! All those crimes I committed… I knew He’d punish me! Me, and the creatures I love!’

Peter stared at him. Winston was trembling all over and could barely take the other man’s gaze, and yet he didn’t avert his eyes. It appeared as if four swords clashed in the air: two blue ones against two green ones.

‘You said God’s leading you on this journey,’ Peter said quietly, ‘Do you think He’s playing games with you, Winston?’

Winston remained silent. His legs buckled and he leaned against the wooden wall of the cabin.

I stood up.

‘We have faith in God,’ I whispered, ‘We believe this is our way. Winston is simply afraid that our weak human nature will thwart God’s plans for us.’

Peter smiled at me, and his eyes, from hard green swords, turned into the foggy islands of melancholy I sometimes saw when he was alone on the deck.

‘If you have faith in God,’ he said, ‘Then you should also have faith in yourselves. Don’t you know that you reflect His essence?’

I’m alone in the cabin now. Muffled noises are coming from outside: the men are preparing for the storm. I’m scared to look through the porthole lest I see, instead of the calm blue expanse, a raging monster ready to swallow us into its dark, foamy mouth.

Ever since we left home, God hasn’t spoken to me. Not even once. Winston’s worries have started to grow on me: what if it wasn’t He who led us here? What if this journey brings death upon us all?

Go to part four: