The book sat in a glass
display cabinet in the middle of the upper floor of an octagonal tower. The
eight walls alternated between windows and benches that people could sit on
while they absorbed the golden glow the room seemed to have, as the sun always
shone through one of the windows. The room had a sense of peace that you only
find in truly spiritual spaces. The entrance to the room was via a spiral
staircase that came up through the floor under the east facing window.
The book itself was an ancient
manuscript which told of the story of the how the local monks had travelled
through England, France and Spain under great hardships to return the ashes of
Saint Maria Castelano to her home town of Cadiz.
Maria Castelano had been the daughter of one of the Spanish
King's closest advisers who had lost his faith in the Catholic Church and along
with the rest of his family had converted to Protestantism. Maria had been
smuggled out of Spain at the start of the Spanish Inquisition, the rest of her
family had not been so lucky. Maria had been sent to the monastery as a place
of sanctuary and over the next few years she had tended to a large number of
Spanish refugees who had also managed to escape to the religious safety of
England. Over the years the stories of Maria's kindness spread and the
monastery was soon acting as a hospital for all the local villages.
Unfortunately she contracted
tuberculosis and died before she could reach her fortieth birthday. The monks
continued to tend for the poor in her memory and on the hundredth anniversary
of her death, as requested by Marie on her death bed the monks set off to
scatter her ashes on her father's grave in Cadiz.
The book begins its story as forty five monks set out from
the monastery and finishes as only five had made it to the cemetery in Cadiz.
The journey was arduous and dangerous and many acts of bravery and personal
sacrifice were endured by the monks to ensure that their pilgrimage was a
success.
The octagonal tower was all
that was left of the original monastery and the book had been displayed there
since it had been written over three hundred years ago. Each morning one of the
few remaining monks of the order would unlock the cabinet and turn the page. As
there were seven hundred and thirty pages it took exactly one year to read the
book.
*********************************************************
'Jamie, where is you final
creative writing piece?' bellowed Professor Jones.
'I am working on it sir. I'll have to ready by next
Friday.' smiled Jamie.
'Well make sure you do and it better be good. Your
borderline on whether you're going to pass this course.'
'Don't worry sir; you're going to love it.'
As Jamie left Professor Jones'
class Michelle caught up with him.
'Jamie you need to work on
that story. Your parents aren't going to fund you as a struggling author if you
fail this course.'
'I'm not going to fail.'
'How can you be so confident? You've been at my place every
night. There's no way you've been working on your story.'
'It's all in hand,' smiled Jamie. 'Now let’s get to the pub.'
Jamie knew everything was
going to okay as last year he had stumbled upon the monastery and the story of
the monks and their pilgrimage to Cadiz. He had carefully checked, through
leading questions, that the Professor didn't know of the story or the existence
of the manuscript. Every morning since the beginning of January 2011 Jamie had
gone to the tower and copied down that day's pages. The only problem had been
that he had missed May 11th due to a virus which had meant he couldn't get out
of bed. This Friday, the deadline for his last creative writing piece, and the
difference between passing and failing his course, was May 11th. Jamie knew
that the page was turned over by the monk at 6am each day. This gave him enough
time to copy the pages and get them to Professor Jones before the noon
deadline.
The missing pages told the
story of how the monks had been ambushed in North France and had lost the urn
containing Maria's ashes. By the time the story continued they were back on the
road with the urn. Without those two pages the story made no sense.
On Friday morning Jamie rose
bright and early and set off to the tower. As he arrived the monk was just
descending the spiral staircase having turned the page. Jamie rushed up to the
tower room grabbed his pad and his pen and threw his rucksack into the corner.
Leaning on the display he began to write. After a few minutes he stopped and
flicked back through his notes.
'No, no, no, no. This can't be
happening.'
Leaving everything where it
was he chased down the stairs just in time to see the monk enter a building
across the atrium. Jamie ran over and started hammering on the door. The monk
gently opened the door and smiled at Jamie.
'Quick you must come with me.'
yelled Jamie.
'Why senor? Is there a problem?'
'Yes you have turned over too many pages. Today's pages
were shown on 12th May last year.'
'Of course senor, 2012 is a leap year so the date to show
the pages moves by one day. There is no mistake.'
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