It was early morning when David approached the little pier near his family's cottage. A heavy thick mist rose over the still waters of the lake.
“The fog is unusually thick,” he thought as he began to prepare his boat for another day's work.
David was a ferryman. For a fee, he would carry travelers across the lake which lay on the border between his country and the next. He was only eighteen, but the circumstances of his difficult life had formed him into a strong young man in mind and heart and body. His father had been dead for four years. He had been a ferryman too. In fact, David's family had carried strangers across this lake for more than a hundred years. There were roads from one country to the other, but one path snaked through the mountains to the north and could be difficult, even in good weather. The road to the south was leveled but it was long and passed occasionally through sections of forest where thieves waited to attack any traveler who appeared weak or unarmed.
Generally, though, enough people desired to cross by water to keep David's family out of poverty. But for the last several years, there was a growing tension between the two countries and the flow of travelers knocking at the cottage door was reduced to a trickle. There was even talk of war breaking out and David worried how he would care for his mother. But she was a devout Catholic who had a great love for God and confidence in the Blessed Virgin. She had often encouraged David to pray more and read spiritual books. But like most men, David believed that God was out doing His work and wanted David to stay busy with his own. Except for Mass on Sunday, religion was mainly for the women and the children.
It had been several days since anyone had come, looking to pay for his services and David's concerns for the welfare of his mother and himself was beginning to overtake him. He sat by the water, listening to the stillness in the air as the fog seemed to increase. From deep within him, a prayer of sorts began to emerge.
“God, if there is a God.... I guess there must be a God... God, if You can hear me, You know I've never really asked you for anything, especially since you took my father away from us...”. Something was stirring inside of him and his thoughts became transformed into words aimed at Heaven and rippling out over the water like a wave. He was standing now facing the water.
“God, you know that we are decent people. What harm have we ever done to anyone? And my mother. She has a great love for You and a confidence in Your mother to intercede for us. But my father is dead and the talk of war keeps travelers from coming and soon we will have nothing to eat. If you will not help us for my sake, at least for the sake of my mother, whom I love as much as you love yours.”
And then he stood there, half expecting something without knowing what it might be. He stood waiting for an answer to the first prayer that he had uttered in four years. Nothing. Just silence and the quiet sound of those creatures that lived in and near the lake. David sat down hard.
“I thought not!” He took a rock and threw it as far as he could into the fog. In a few moments he heard it splash somewhere deep in the mist.
“Can you take us across the lake?”
David must have been so distracted by his thoughts, he had not noticed the travelers that now stood near the pier. There was a man with a young woman, who appeared very sad. It looked as though she had been crying recently. They both had on cloaks that fell from their shoulders to the ground with hoods covering their heads. In the man's arms, was a young boy covered with a type of shawl. The boy looked ill, maybe even dying. The travelers seemed weary, as though they had been traveling a long distance. The woman refused to look at David. She kept her hand on the boy's heart, holding the child's hands there, while she stared down, eyes full of grief.
“The boy” David remarked. “He's sick?” The man gently nodded and seemed to grimace at the thought of the child's health.
“It's nothing contagious, is it?” questioned David, backing up a step or two. The woman started sobbing quietly as the man responded with a great heaviness in his voice.
“You have nothing to fear, David. Can you take us?”
The thought of paying customers quickly put aside any fear David may have had about carrying the sick lad in his boat.
“We can leave right now, if you're ready.” The man quietly nodded as he helped the woman and the child onto the boat. David stepped forward. “Because the boy can't sit up on his own, but is laying down instead in the boat – he'll have to be full fare.”
The man responded with a deep sigh. “You'll be well paid.”
Using an oar, David pushed away from the shore and then made his way to the front of the boat, where he sat facing his passengers. Once everyone was secure and seated, he began to row through the shroud of fog.
For a while, no one said anything. David looked from one to the other, studying these three strangers that he was carrying across the lake. He tried to study the face of the man and the young woman, but the hoods prevented him from analyzing them too closely. Were they related? Was she his wife? His sister? Was the boy their's? Or his or hers? The woman was obviously upset. And the man seemed tired and sad. Maybe it was the sick child that was the reason. Was the child dying? What was wrong with him? Were they fleeing from something? They seemed to have an urgent purpose in their trip. Were they trying to get somewhere?
David kept turning his questions over in his mind. Finally, his curiosity got the better of him.
Elizabeth Poston's Ending
“If you don’t mind my asking,” said David, “Why are you traveling with a sick child?”
“We have to get him across the border,” said the man.
This response did not satisfy David. “Can he not be cared for here?”
“No,” said the man.
The sun shone brighter through the mist. The woman pulled her hood closer around her face, seemingly trying to hide it. David tried, again, to get more information. He said, “What is wrong with him?”
“He is sick. We must get him across the border,” the man said, repeating what he had said previously. He started to shift his position in the boat.
“I’m sure your wife is anxious for his safety.”
“She is not my wife. Are we getting close?”
David was too distracted by the man’s first words to answer his question. Who was she if she was not his wife?
“David, are you there?” said a voice from behind the boat.
“Who calls there?” asked David through the fog.
“It’s me, Andrew; do not go across, David! Do not cross the lake!”
David saw looks and motions of concern from his travelers. “We’ll have to row back. I’m sorry,” David said.
“Can’t you drop us off first,” said the man. David now saw a glimpse of the woman’s face. She was the epitome of suffering and worry.
“I’m sorry; I have to be sure of your safety.” A dagger was at David’s throat. Fear shot up into him. What was he going to do? “God do not abandon me!” He thought, “What have I done to deserve death?”
The man whispered, “Take us across the lake, David; do not turn back.”
Andrew called out, “David, did you hear me? Come back!”
Everyone waited in silence. David thought, “What lay on the other side of the lake that is so important?” Although David’s bravery told him to fight the man and turn back, is wisdom stopped him. He had to take them across, or what would become of his mother? “I’ll take you across,” he said. Andrew continued calling out to him, but he blotted the sound out. Anger rose in David. “Where are you, God?” he asked in silence, “I know where you are! You are nowhere! You do not care for me!” When the man put his dagger back, David saw, concealed in his cloak, a hilt. It was silver with diamonds on the pummel. Its sheath went down to the man’s ankles. It was a long-sword. The man was a knight, but who was the woman? “Who are you? Are you a knight?” David asked.
“So, we have given ourselves away, have we?” he replied, “I might as well tell you everything, for you will know soon enough.” The man pulled his hood off his head to reveal, under it, a hood of chain-mail. Then, he unfastened his cloak altogether and revealed a tunic with the symbol of a dragon. On his back, was a mighty shield, also bearing the crest of a dragon. His eyes were green, but shone red over his high cheek bones, a treasured trait of a warrior. “I am Henry, a knight, as you have noticed. The boy is King Hilarion’s youngest son, Matthias. We traveled to your country because we heard of the holy monk who many people received miracles through. The boy has been paralyzed since birth. We thought he might be cured. On our way there, we were accused of being spies because of our countries’ disagreements. We quickly traveled back in disguise to avoid trouble, and, with the help of God, we have practically arrived. Your friend tried to stop you because our countries have declared war against one another. You would surely have been killed. David, you must know that you will never go back home. You are now with us to stay. However, if you pray, God might end the war sooner.”
Although David wanted to cry over his helplessness, his anger and fear controlled his actions; he was determined not to show his self-pity. Instead, he lashed out at God. For, it was He who got him into this mess. “If God is the one who will stop this war, than He is the one who started the war! How could you do it?! Why me? Haven’t you caused enough pain for me? What will my mother do when I’m gone for years? Haven’t you thought about that?”
“David, stop!” said Henry, “You are blaspheming!”
“I do not care if I do! He deserves it. He wants me to suffer.”
“Oh, David stop!”
David felt a gentle, but firm grasp on his arm. These last words were not a man’s. The woman had spoken for the first time. “David,” she said, “Don’t you know what you are saying? Each of our roads are different, some are harder than others. Yours has been very hard, but God never puts anything in our paths that we cannot overcome. You must trust Him. Although things may seem horrible, he will never abandon you.”
He wanted to laugh at her seemingly childish notions, but somehow he could not. Something in her beautiful, soothing voice prevented him from saying anything. He ran her words over and over again through his mind. He could never believe them, but she did. How could she? He studied her face. Her blue eyes were red from tears and her face was pale, but when the light shone on her, he could see hope in her face. David asked, “Who are you?”
She answered, “I am a servant, a friend, a mistress, and a princess. I am a servant to God, a friend to all, a mistress to my servants, and a princess to my people. Matthias is my little brother. I am Princess Gwendolyn, Henry’s mistress and King Hilarion’s daughter.”
“How can you be Henry’s mistress and the King’s daughter?”
“I too, David, have lost a parent. I have taken my mother’s place as mistress while my father is single, but remain a princess until I marry.”
David was overcome with bewilderment. He had been ferrying not only a baby prince, but Princess Gwendolyn, herself. The four passengers felt the boat bump up against a surface. David started to get out of the boat and haul it in like he had always, but Henry stopped him.
Henry called out, “Behold, the Princess comes!”
“Who goes there?” said a voice through the fog. David jumped, for there was never a guard on the shore
“It is Henry, the Bold, escorting the Princess, Gwendolyn, and the Prince, Matthias, with a servant.”
Immediately, hands protruded from the fog and the boat was pulled onto the shore. David saw rough soldiers amidst the fog. They bowed to the Princess and the Prince who was being carried by Henry. One soldier brought three horses for each of the party.
Gwendolyn turned to David, “We ride to the fortress of Duhn, my home. You will be staying there.”
David grew increasingly fearful. Duhn was the most powerful country and its fortress was the dread of many countries. What was going to happen to him? They rode and rode. The path seemed to go on and on. Gradually the fog lifted. They could see the clear sky above the trees. David was not used to riding. His muscles ached. Pain shot to his head, and everything was black.
“David, David,” said a voice. It seemed to be coming from far away. He saw the most beautiful face with light shining forth from it as if it could light the world. It was a woman’s face. “David, you must trust in God; He will keep you safe. Trust in God. Your mother will be fine, David. I will care for her. Rest in my arms now, but soon, soon you must go.”
“Mary,” he said, “Mary, let me sleep.”
“No, David, you must go. You must wake up, David. David, wake up!”
This voice was different. Slowly the light faded. His head throbbed, so he brought his hand up to touch it. When he brought it down it was red. “What happened?” he asked, “Mary, where are you?” He saw that the face was still there. Suddenly he realized what was going on. Princess Gwendolyn was hovering over him and Henry was next to him, still mounted, holding the boy.
“David, are you alright?” she asked.
“I think so, did I fall?”
“Yes, but don’t worry, your head will heal quickly; you just scraped it.”
David got up swiftly and said, “Sorry to delay you. I’m fine now.” He was embarrassed at what had happened. He wanted to show them that he was tough and didn’t need help. However, he was not as tough as he had thought. He wanted to stay with that Heavenly voice. It was like music to his ears. He abhorred his blaspheming, but was not yet willing to trust. “What am I doing? What is God doing with me? Why must I suffer like this? How did I doubt Him?”
Duhn was the mightiest stronghold in the world. It occupied the whole top of a mountain. Soon they reached the base of the mountain. They crossed a bridge over the moat and rode up the mountain. There was a mighty gate. When they approached it, there were loud trumpet blasts and soldiers came out to meet them. One finely dressed tall man came up to Princess Gwendolyn’s horse. He was smiling, but in his eyes there was grief.
He said, “I was worried for your safety; I didn’t think you would get through. Well, what of your brother?”
She dismounted. “Oh, father, we were not able to reach the good monk.” She buried her face in his shoulder. He patted her head, but he had tears in his own eyes.
Henry handed the boy to a young soldier who gently held him in his arms. The King, for he was indeed the king, now saw David for the first time. “Who are you?” he asked.
Henry answered for David, “He is a ferryman, Sire. He bought us across the lake. His name is David. With your permission, Sir, I shall give him a bed. He has become weary from the journey.” The king gave a nod to Henry. David then dismounted and bowed to the king.
Although his head still throbbed with pain, David was able to feel relief from a sound sleep. When he awoke, he searched for Henry. Soon it was dark and he could not see well. He went toward the only light he saw. When he opened the doors to the building with the light, he found that it was the chapel. It was mostly dark. The light which he had seen was the sanctuary lamp. He did not want to be there, but something held his legs still. He stared at the Tabernacle. “What do you want from me?” he asked. Tears ran down his cheeks. “What am I to do? Stay here forever? Show me God?!”
“David, is that you?” He turned around. There was Gwendolyn. “I’m sorry to disturb you,” she said. She was surprised to see him crying and pitied him. However, she too had tears on her cheeks. “I have come to pray too. The doctors said that there is no hope for Matthias. Only a miracle can cure him.” More tears rolled down her face. “If only we could have seen that old monk!”
David, although extremely embarrassed, could not leave. What was holding him here? He should leave her, but his legs would not move. It was as if he was being held down. He said, “I wish I could do something for you, sweet princess, but I am never to leave this place.”
Suddenly, Gwendolyn’s face shined bright. “David, do you mean that, truly? Would you do it for me?”
“I would if I could. You have been very kind to me; I wish I could repay the debt.” She looked at the Tabernacle and he turned to do the same.
They reached the shore in a few hours and climbed into David’s boat. The four of them crossed the lake once again. This time, Henry helped David row since there was no fog. They soon reached the other side. All was dark except for a light inside the house. David knocked lightly on the door. When it opened they all hurried in. David hugged his mother while Gwendolyn shut the door. They explained everything to her and she gave them all bread and goat cheese.
David said, “As soon as it is light, I will take the prince to the monastery. I’ll use the donkey cart. We shouldn’t be questioned, but if we are, he is my little brother.”
“Here, David,” said Henry, “take my dagger in case someone gives you trouble.”
“Thank you, Henry, but God will take care of us.”
Gwendolyn smiled, “And, we will always take care of your family financially, David.”
David left that morning with Matthias. His mother had changed the boy into David’s old clothes in order to disguise him. They traveled quickly; David could see that the boy’s life was fading. He was stopped by a guard.
“Where are you going with that boy?” he asked.
David answered, “We are going to the monastery of Saint Augustine to see Father Peter Bartholomew. My brother, here, is sick.”
“Is it contagious?”
“No, sir, he is paralyzed.”
“Why didn’t you say so to begin with? Move along.”
David looked over at the prince; he had lost almost all of his color. He urged the donkey on. They passed through many villages and finally reached the monastery. Many people were there and he could not get through the crowd with the cart. He picked the boy up and carried him. David pushed and squeezed through the crowd. He was almost there; he could see the monks’ hooded cloaks. The people were all crowding to glimpse the monk. David finally reached the front.
“Please, let me through! I must see Father Peter!” he yelled.
One of the monks saw him. He said, “Son, it is too late. Father Peter cannot do anything for him now.”
David looked down. The boy had closed his eyes for the last time. He was not breathing.
“No, it can’t be!” David fell to his knees, still clutching the tiny child, “No, Lord, not him!” He cried in utmost exertion for the prince who had never once spoken a word.
Father Peter Bartholomew saw what was happening and came to David. He lifted the boy out of David’s arms and blessed him. “Son,” he said to David, “Come with me into the church; you shall feel much better.”
David followed, shaking with tears. He had failed Him; he had failed God. Unwillingly, he entered the monastery church. The monk placed the child in front of the altar and then went into a pew to pray. David followed his example and knelt down. He felt extreme despair and helplessness. Father Peter was silent and bent over. David knew that the old monk could do nothing. He saw the motionless boy in front of the altar. How could God have allowed this to happen? Suddenly, words he had once heard came into his mind. “David, you must trust in God.” He looked up at the Tabernacle through his tear stained eyes. He said, “I trust in you.”
“David? David, I can speak. David, look! I can walk. David!” He felt a firm poke at his quivering shoulder. He took his eyes off the Tabernacle to see the bright blue eyes and strong muscles of a young boy, the Prince.
David embraced the boy and let tears of joy moisten the Price’s clothes. David felt a hand on his head. It was Father Peter. He said, “May God bless you, son. Your feat is accomplished.”