HISTORICAL FICTION — SPECULATIVE FICTION

The Weight of Being The Protector of the Old Religion

Chapter Fourteen — Did he imagine seeing Lugh and Brighid?

Later that evening, following a communal meal which was shared with the other villagers, Guillaume began to wonder if he had imagined the scene earlier. Laurent and Laurent’s sister, Brielle. He stole a look at the two of them and saw that they looked no different from the others who were present.

Strangely, Guillaume began to feel a sense of being at ease, almost as if he belonged among these people hidden deep within the forest. As he looked around, he saw an older man rise from his seat to address the villagers. Guillaume was surprised to see the man, an old man he had known from the village of Étoile, here in the forest village.

“Let us give thanks to the gods and goddesses of our people for bringing Sir Guillaume here to be with us. I know his father and grandfather have done what they could to protect our ancient religion from the power-hungry lords of the Roman Church. Sadly, it hasn’t been enough for the power of those lords continues to grow while our numbers are reduced every year.”

“And now, we are faced with a new enemy, the greed of Louis, the Count of Flanders, who is stealing the very bread from the mouths of our children through taxation. There is almost nothing left to us. We cannot pay these taxes and remain living.”

Turning to face Guillaume, the man who Guillaume now remembered as Basil le Noir, the old man continued, “Sir Guillaume. You came to us alone, somehow finding your way to our hideout here in the forest. Why you came is a mystery, and how you found us is even a greater mystery. Only the gods and goddesses could have arranged this.”

“Though you are young in years, we now turn to you as our protector. We will do what you command of us in the days and years to come, as we know you have been chosen to be our leader. Know that we are ready to do what we must as we follow your banner.”

Guillaume’s face registered his confusion. He didn’t come here alone. He had come with Laurent as his guide. Surely they all knew this as they had arrived mid-morning from Valenciennes. Guillaume turned to look at Laurent and his sister only to find that they weren’t there.

‘What is happening?’ he asked himself in panic. ‘This can’t be happening to me?’ Yet, he was here with real people. And, these people now looked at him with hope and expectation.

As Basil le Noir continued to speak to the others, Guillaume’s mind turned to memories from the past, time he had spent with his grandfather and the stories he told about the Belgae, and the gods and goddesses of those people. His father spent many hours telling Guillaume about the family duty to these people, a duty he would be expected to uphold when it was his turn.

His grandfather swore him to secrecy, explaining that to divulge these secrets would only result in incredible suffering for the family, as well as for the people they were sworn to protect. Guillaume had sworn to keep the secrets and to fulfill his duty. At that moment, he realised that this village and these people were now his duty.

Guillaume stood and walked to the old man, then bent on one knee in front of him as though giving homage and respect to a king.

“I acknowledge my duty to you and the descendants of my people and to the old ways. I don’t know what I can do, but I will do what I can. I can offer no more.”

Basil laid a palm on Guillaume’s shoulder and spoke, “It is enough, Sir Guillaume.”

Later that evening, Guillaume returned to the small house where he had experienced what he now could only call, a hallucination. No one had spoken about Laurent or Brielle, nor had he seen them during the rest of the evening’s celebrations.

No sooner had he spread his cloak on the small, make-shift bed with a straw mattress, when he sensed a golden light coming from near the door. Laurent appeared with Brielle standing beside him.

“No, Guillaume, you aren’t imagining us. Though others can’t see us, it doesn’t mean we don’t exist. And when they do see us by our deliberate choice to be seen, they don’t remember having seen us when we fade out of sight. We don’t really disappear, it simply is that others can’t see us unless we are in our mortal form. You can see us as Lugh and Brighid now, but in the morning, you will see two people who are otherwise unremarkable.”

“Uh … you … you are really a god and goddess?” stuttered Guillaume.

“Yes, my blood,” replied Brighid with a smile. “Your great grandfather Guillaume was my love child. And because of that, you can see us when others can’t. It is because of that you find yourself the human protector of our people. You aren’t the only one, but you are an important one. For generations yet to come, your descendants will continue to preserve the old way, the way of nature. But for the moment, this moment, you are my child. Now, sleep and remember what you are charged to do, and who you are.”

With those final words spoken, the golden light faded into darkness and Guillaume was alone and sleeping.

Previously

Thanks to my readers of this story for acknowledging my story with claps, comments, and/or highlighting.

Carrie, Author, D. Denise Dianaty, Brian Lageose, Mariana Busarova, Rena Aliston, Julia A. Keirns, Michael Cappelli, Daniel Shaw, and Luis Ruiz, Robert, Arzuman Mamishov, Adda Maria, Love, and Mariana Busarova