It is said that everything born must die, but it is also said that everything dead must, in turn, be reborn. These were the words spoken to the mother of John H. D. Lucy as she prepared to give birth to her first and only child upon an old, dilapidated kitchen table in the midst of dinner services at the monastery of St. Bernard of Montjoux. The dinner had been underwhelming for the monks and so the intrusion of a traveling, pregnant mother injected some well needed excitement. She first arrived at the monastery weeks before but had left and was now just returning in the hopes of escaping her villainous uncle who wished only her death and the death of her child.
Some years before, John's mother, who is called Therese, fell in love with a young handsome brick mason who traveled the country side building chimneys out of nothing but bricks conceived of hay and mud. He was known by some as Hudgle. Hudgle could build a mighty chimney but his true passion was for the work of the fabulist. He collected tales wherever he traveled and copied them down in his notes. Sometimes, when weather and times were bad, these tales were the only things aiding him in finding lodging and food. One of these nights when he was telling a story in the home of some villagers he met Therese and fell for her at first sight. The two eventually ran off together building chimneys, collecting stories, and avoiding the authorities. Their match was not one approved of by the family.
In their travels they came to a house owned by a seer. She fed the couple, asked them to stay, and then laid her hands upon the woman's belly. Startled, the witch chortled and choked upon her own spit and excitement, "You are to birth a great child! He will be the scourge of much evil, the boon of many who are weary, and his stories will fill the ears of many desperate for hope. May God bless your souls." With that the old hag died and left the couple amazed at what she had uttered. They pondered her words and then left her home and her village unseen through the thick night.
Enraged, Therese's uncle, Claude Von Glut, hearing of Therese's absconding with Hudgle, gathered a team of great and wise trackers. These men hated all men and despised all love. They sought the destruction of all that was good in their world and spent night and day dining on the flesh of innocent lambs and drinking the blood of harmless geese. These were not men to upset. Claude began his search for Therese and Hudgle, patiently searching town after town and village after village. Eventually him and his men tracked them to a village in the deep woods of the Alpine mountains. Here they waited, eating young lambs and drinking goose blood.
In the night, when the young couple looked to the road, Claude and his men came upon them as a lion comes upon its helpless and unknowing prey. They circled them, ripping their clothes and mocking their love. One of Claude's men grabbed Hudgle by the collar and smashed his skull against a tree, killing the man and leaving his body for the wild beasts. In the midst of this struggle Therese, falling to her knees, began to pray and saw a vision of a monastery. She heard a voice telling her to "run as quickly as she could to this place". And so, she ran and the men could not catch her. She came to the monastery and, banging on the wooden door, begged for sanctuary. The monks gave her entrance and allowed her to stay for as long as she could. Claude and his gang were at a loss for they could not enter the monastery nor get close without their very flesh falling from their bones: evil held no power in these parts.
While in the monastery the monks offered Therese great comfort, praying for her at all hours and feeding and caring for her day and night. She was never in want and her child was growing well inside her. She was able to mourn the loss of her young husband and appropriately grieve his death. The monks, though, studied her with great interest through all this and seemed to always whisper around her. She wondered why it was that the Abbot had shown so much interest in her and her unborn child. Each morning and night the Abbot, who rarely ever left his cell, would come and pray over the child and the mother. He would pray in old languages that had not been spoken in generations and then he would kiss the belly and forehead of the mother, leaving her in great confusion. Soon this became to much for the woman and so she left the monastery one night in search of other lodging.
But, it was not to be, for, as she left the monastery, Uncle Claude was on her trail and in the hunt for the unborn child. As she hiked the mountainous region Claude approached her alone with only a sword. "Give me the child", he said, "I will cut him out myself if you will not!" Therese immediately ran, heading back to the monastery. As she did, the other gang members came out on horses, one grabbed her dress as it it ripped from his force. Again she came to the monastery door and again she begged for sanctuary. She burst through the door screaming and flailing in pain and horror, her face contorting and her belly moving. She threw herself upon the dining table and began to push. Blood and placenta spewed forth and suddenly, in the chaos, the Abbot appeared: "Everything born must die, but everything dead must, in turn, be reborn." He placed his hands over the belly of the birthing mother, prayed, and released her. In that moment the cries of John H.D. Lucy ripped into the air and the soul of his humble mother Therese drifted to the heavens.
Some years before, John's mother, who is called Therese, fell in love with a young handsome brick mason who traveled the country side building chimneys out of nothing but bricks conceived of hay and mud. He was known by some as Hudgle. Hudgle could build a mighty chimney but his true passion was for the work of the fabulist. He collected tales wherever he traveled and copied them down in his notes. Sometimes, when weather and times were bad, these tales were the only things aiding him in finding lodging and food. One of these nights when he was telling a story in the home of some villagers he met Therese and fell for her at first sight. The two eventually ran off together building chimneys, collecting stories, and avoiding the authorities. Their match was not one approved of by the family.
In their travels they came to a house owned by a seer. She fed the couple, asked them to stay, and then laid her hands upon the woman's belly. Startled, the witch chortled and choked upon her own spit and excitement, "You are to birth a great child! He will be the scourge of much evil, the boon of many who are weary, and his stories will fill the ears of many desperate for hope. May God bless your souls." With that the old hag died and left the couple amazed at what she had uttered. They pondered her words and then left her home and her village unseen through the thick night.
Enraged, Therese's uncle, Claude Von Glut, hearing of Therese's absconding with Hudgle, gathered a team of great and wise trackers. These men hated all men and despised all love. They sought the destruction of all that was good in their world and spent night and day dining on the flesh of innocent lambs and drinking the blood of harmless geese. These were not men to upset. Claude began his search for Therese and Hudgle, patiently searching town after town and village after village. Eventually him and his men tracked them to a village in the deep woods of the Alpine mountains. Here they waited, eating young lambs and drinking goose blood.
In the night, when the young couple looked to the road, Claude and his men came upon them as a lion comes upon its helpless and unknowing prey. They circled them, ripping their clothes and mocking their love. One of Claude's men grabbed Hudgle by the collar and smashed his skull against a tree, killing the man and leaving his body for the wild beasts. In the midst of this struggle Therese, falling to her knees, began to pray and saw a vision of a monastery. She heard a voice telling her to "run as quickly as she could to this place". And so, she ran and the men could not catch her. She came to the monastery and, banging on the wooden door, begged for sanctuary. The monks gave her entrance and allowed her to stay for as long as she could. Claude and his gang were at a loss for they could not enter the monastery nor get close without their very flesh falling from their bones: evil held no power in these parts.
While in the monastery the monks offered Therese great comfort, praying for her at all hours and feeding and caring for her day and night. She was never in want and her child was growing well inside her. She was able to mourn the loss of her young husband and appropriately grieve his death. The monks, though, studied her with great interest through all this and seemed to always whisper around her. She wondered why it was that the Abbot had shown so much interest in her and her unborn child. Each morning and night the Abbot, who rarely ever left his cell, would come and pray over the child and the mother. He would pray in old languages that had not been spoken in generations and then he would kiss the belly and forehead of the mother, leaving her in great confusion. Soon this became to much for the woman and so she left the monastery one night in search of other lodging.
But, it was not to be, for, as she left the monastery, Uncle Claude was on her trail and in the hunt for the unborn child. As she hiked the mountainous region Claude approached her alone with only a sword. "Give me the child", he said, "I will cut him out myself if you will not!" Therese immediately ran, heading back to the monastery. As she did, the other gang members came out on horses, one grabbed her dress as it it ripped from his force. Again she came to the monastery door and again she begged for sanctuary. She burst through the door screaming and flailing in pain and horror, her face contorting and her belly moving. She threw herself upon the dining table and began to push. Blood and placenta spewed forth and suddenly, in the chaos, the Abbot appeared: "Everything born must die, but everything dead must, in turn, be reborn." He placed his hands over the belly of the birthing mother, prayed, and released her. In that moment the cries of John H.D. Lucy ripped into the air and the soul of his humble mother Therese drifted to the heavens.