Turbinio

Movere Crus

''Have you ever read the Bible, (Y/N)?''

The voice of Reverend Innes enunciated. You had knelt in the chapel, resting your elbows on the edge of the baptismal font as you watched the reverend turn a stack of papers in his hands and walk back and forth. He was tall and slender, like most priests you have met - and unconsciously feared - his nose was red and his cheeks too.

''No, never.'' You replied, absently fingering the wood of the sink.

''But can read Latin...'' The reverend stopped and looked at you. ''Your mother unusually raised you, I must say.''

''Yeah... but she already read the Bible, the Vulgate, so she had a lot of notes in Latin. I think it was versed. When I learned to read, I contented myself with other books.''

''Other books? I'll love to get a recommendation from you.'' He smiled gently.

''Well... Do you know 'Mémoires dún ane'? It's silly, but it's one of my favorite books.''

''Never heard of it. It's French?''

''Yes. Memoirs of a Donkey. It tells the story of a donkey named Cadichon''

''I'm writing it down to read later. Now, about your mother... did you say she read the Vulgate? I can hardly imagine that she is just a voracious reader or a curious one. There is no reason to bother with a book like that. Tell me, (Y/N), do you know what these words mean?''

He handed you one of the dozens of papers he was carrying. But this one was particularly dusty, torn and yellowed. As if it were a page torn out of Luther's own Bible.

''De corpore e alma, eris aeternus'' You read it and take a few seconds to translate it. ''Body and soul, you will be eternal. Confitebor tibi domine in toto corde meo, narrabo omnia mirabilia tua. My enemies turn back, stumble and disappear before your presence... I have already seen the first sentence in my mother's drafts, what does it mean exactly?''

''We will find out together, (Y/N). Body and soul, you will be eternal... Do you have any guesses?''

You needed some time to think as you stared at the paper. You felt the room heating up as the reverend lit candles in each corner that reminded you uncomfortably of grave lights. He placed silver vials of holy water and perfumed oil on a bench and draped a white towel over each arm. Like a wine steward, you thought with a sneer.

All that was written on the paper were incoherent phrases and verses in Latin and Gaelic, but you did not understand the second language. Each sentence sounded like a soothing, low murmur in your mind.

''Reverend Innes.'' A tall, lean figure appeared in the doorway of the chapel. It was young William, the Reverend's nephew. He hesitated when he saw you sitting on the chapel floor, your feet bare and leaning casually against the baptismal font. Soon he looked away sheepishly. ''You're needed in the stable.''

The reverend deftly disposed of the papers on the bench and nodded calmly at the young man.

''Alright, alright... Tell them I'm coming.''

The young man nodded and closed the door of the chapel with one last look at you. He was tall, thin, red-haired and pretty as a little deer. Every day William visited the chapel with a tattered justification in his hand. It was known, however, that the extravagant nature of these visits was for your appreciation, not reverend's. Eighteen-year-old William had a pressing ambition in life. Get married. He took one look at you when the reverend introduced you and concluded that a beautiful foreigner with ''divine'' healing abilities was the best prospect for a wife that the village had to offer.