The Salt Covenants by Sylvia Bambola

Author:Sylvia Bambola [Bambola, Sylvia]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Heritage Publishing House
Published: 2015-01-14T05:00:00+00:00

Sebastian is dead.

He has lost his head, though it does not hold herbs and swing in some hut. Rather, it is crushed beyond the ability of our doctors to repair. Bone splinters, deeply imbedded in his brain, caused the type of bleeding the doctors could not stop. He never regained consciousness.

I follow behind six men who carry Sebastian’s shrouded body to the church. Beneath the shroud, Sebastian wears no clothing, and his arms have been crossed on his chest in the manner of all the burials in Isabela. But he will not be sewn into deerskin as is the custom of Old Christians, for there is none to be had. Nor will he be placed in a wooden box or buried inside the church as is usual for someone of Sebastian’s rank. The soil is too shallow, and covers bedrock.

As we make our way along the Plaza, The Mourning Office is prayed, and loud dirges and lamentations fill the air. But I do not weep.

Surely Sebastian’s disappointment would be great if he could witness these proceedings. For prudence’s sake, it does not follow Jewish law. Nor does it follow the pattern of Old Christians in burying their dead, especially their privileged dead. No public crier has been hired to carry the news of his death, or to tell the time and place of his burial—all customary for someone of Sebastian’s rank. Neither have I draped my house in black serge, for I have none. But he was awarded the honor of being washed with scented water by two priests, then anointed with ointment and balsam. It is a small comfort, and I grasp it greedily, for I am full of remorse.

If only I had been a better wife.

Why did I not try harder to help Sebastian heal his wounded heart? Oh, how disappointed Beatriz must be! And oh, how flawed is my character!

All through Fray Buil’s Mass, my mind whips me with these thoughts. And not even the perfumed vapors coming from Fray Buil’s censer, as he waves it over Sebastian’s body, can dispel my brooding. It continues as Fray Buil sprinkles Sebastian with holy water and says the Pater Noster. Only when he begins the Absolutions—the prayers of forgiveness—do I feel a measure of peace, and not because of the prayers, but because I feel the very hand of the Holy One trying to wrestle this burden from me. But I will not release it.

It was Sebastian’s sin that brought about this end, and in some way, Señor Villarreal’s, too. For Sebastian was made careless by his father’s numerous indulgences. How many times had Señor Villarreal paid Sebastian’s gambling debts or soothe an irate innkeeper Sebastian had insulted or cheated?

It is easy to make messes when one does not have to clean them up.

But what of my sin? Did not a wife have an obligation to pray for her husband? And how sorely lacking were my prayers!

I watch Fray Buil, who has already removed his chasuble, pick up a large cross.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.