Mother Naked by Glen James Brown

Author:Glen James Brown
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Peninsula Press

46

…Friends, the final moments afore death be the most fraught a man lives. Listen to this succinct couplet—

Live well, die never.

Die well, live forever…

…For in those dwindling breaths where lyf teeters upon the rim of two worlds, grave danger abounds. Demons perch beyond the candle glow, waiting for some fatal error by either Priest or parishioner in enactment of final rites, so that they may drag the dying person’s unshriven, unhouseled soul to Hell. Mam oftentymes said it was her greatest comfort that mine middle siblings had both died well. It was why she said her daily Paternosters and Aves, so when the tyme came we would all pass from this lyf to meet again in Purgatory, afore one day journeying onwards to Heaven’s endless bliss.

So, ye can imagine her relief when, as her hysband neared death, all started well. Father Bell shrived Da and listened to his whispered confession—the particulars of which remain ‘twixt those two men—and unburdened his soul of sin. Thus shriven, Father Bell annealed Da’s head and feet with oil in preparation of housel. From his pyx, he took the sacred body of Christ and tried to place it upon Da’s tongue, but Da was fading. Mam clutch’t her breast.

Father, she said. Father, he cannot swallow.

The Priest brok Christ’s body into a cup of wine, but did not pour it into Da’s mouth. Instead, he shook Da by the shoulder.

Henry, said Father Bell. Does my voice reach thee?

Da groaned in the affirmative.

Henry, the lead in the south window of the church needs replacement. Two shillings ought suffice.

Da opened his fearful eyes. Father Bell took his hand.

For thy benefit, said the Priest. To weight the scale of judgment further in thy favour. Squeeze my hand, Henry, if I have permission to take that price from thine chattels.

Struggling for breath, Da lock’t eyes upon the chalice in Father Bell’s hand, the cup of wine in which floated his Host and salvation. The Priest look’t about himself.

Hellspawn crowds near! said he. Two shillings, afore the fiends o’errun us!

My father squeezed his hand, and with that, Father Bell engaged upon Da’s final piece of worldly business—Ralf Deepslough.

You quarrelled with him, said Father Bell. But holding onto such things shall condemn thee. Forgive his injuries against thee, Henry.

A tear fell upon Da’s cheek.

Weep not, man! Do you not hear that wet gobbling? Those are Demons wanting to pluck thy soul away! And they shall, Henry, if you do not forgive Ralf Deepslough.

Do as he says, cried Alice. Henry, I beg thee.

In agony, Da look’t from his wyf back to Father Bell.

Henry, do you forgive Ralf Deepslough all he hath done to thee?

My father squeezed Father Bell’s hand, and the Priest was able to pour the Host into Da’s mouth. He spluttered upon Christ’s body, but did swallow him down as Father Bell murmured commendatio animae, granting my father leave to die a goode death. Which he did immediately…

…

…I shall never forget what Father Bell did…

…Aye, Sacrist, no truer representative of thy

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