Prophecies and Lies

Chapter Eleven

          “Once upon a time, there were three men. The first was a carpenter, he worked day after day, building things to suit the needs of the people of the village he lived in. It was hard work, but rewarding. It was honest work. The man had a wife, a son and a daughter, and all of them were good, innocent people that lived by God’s laws. They were happy.

          “The second man was a vicar, who preached every Sunday to keep his flock on the right path. His every thought ran out to the Almighty Savior; he was a devout man. He did not have a wife or children, but cared for a little orphan boy whose parents had died of disease. He taught the boy how to read and write and how to save his immortal soul. The vicar too, was happy with this life.

          “Then the third man, he was a beggar. He did not own a house, he did not have a job or any family. He was a drifter who went from town to town, seeking nothing but a meal and a place to sleep. More often than not did he sleep in the stables or a barn of some family, or did he occupy a spare room. If he would do so, he would kindly thank them for their hospitality, for the bed and the food he’d been given. He rarely owned any kind of money, but if he did, he would give it all away; he did not care for coin, but only lived to see the sunrise in the fields. He too, was happy…”

          June sighed, loud enough for Marc to hear. He glanced at her. “Bored?” he asked.

          She shrugged. She was, although she was reluctant to admit it. After all, it wasn’t how a girl like her should behave; she was always taught it wasn’t ‘proper’ to be bored at a church service. But, even though the priest was telling some kind of story, she couldn’t keep her mind at it.

          They were standing on the square, that was now filled with people. Everywhere, they stood; from the back to the front, row upon row of man, woman and child. In this sea of bodies, she could only barely make out the market stalls in the distance. The huge statue of the wolf was easier to see; like a giant, it rose above everything else. They were standing close to it, only a few dozen people were standing between them and the giant werewolf that would be burned later today. It didn’t really look like a werewolf though; it looked like a lot of twigs and straw and wood tied together to form a huge body. It would have been a man’s body, except for the face—that had been given some kind of snout and wolf ears to show everybody they weren’t burning humans, only animals. Absolutely unlike real werewolves though.

          June looked down at the little girl next to her. Maya couldn’t see a thing in this crowd, but had refused to be lifted up on June’s shoulders so she could watch the priest give his sermon on top of the steps of the Cathedral. Perhaps it was because her tail might show; she still did not want to wear any of the magic rings and therefore, all that hid her tail and ears was the brown travelling cloak. It would be unwise to lift her up high.

          Though her face barely showed underneath her hood, it was obvious Maya was bored as well.

          “Terrance tells the story better,” she muttered and turned to June. “Can’t we do something else? This is dull.”

          June put her hand on the little girl, in case she might start whining. “There’s nothing much we can do. This is it, Maya; this is the celebration. The priests will tell a few stories and they will talk about evil in the world and the things we can do against them.”