Bedtime Story: Reflections Of The Past: Spirit: Chapter 51

Relax into your evening, or fall asleep, to this recording of the fifty-first chapter of the magical novel 'Reflections Of The Past,' by Vanda Inman.

Set in a remote valley in Cornwall, England, 'Reflections Of The Past' tells the story of four characters whose lives intertwine through many incarnations, and of their special relationship with the valley's Sacred Spring and Holy Well.

Music by Serge Quadrado
Photo by Alina Vilchenko

Transcript

Chapter 51 It was evening,

And darkness had fallen.

Cornelius stoked up the range in the kitchen of the farmhouse,

And Dan raked in the bonfire,

Which now slumbered gently.

Johan,

In a fit of enthusiasm,

Insisted on brewing a pot of tea,

And we sat around the kitchen table,

The bundle of papers before us.

It appears,

Said Cornelius,

After peering over the tops of his glasses at a seemingly ancient script in copperplate writing for some time,

As though these were written on behalf of someone called Rose,

By an ancestor of mine called Charles.

Fascinating.

He continued to scrutinise the papers closely,

Shuffling the sheets which had been scattered across the garden into some semblance of order.

Well,

Asked Johan impatiently,

What does it say?

Is it about buried treasure?

Or ancient spells?

Or.

.

.

Cornelius looked at me.

Would you like me to have a go at reading it?

I nodded.

Yes,

Please.

He settled his glasses more firmly on his nose and began.

My dearest Rachel,

I have asked Charles to write this for me,

As I do not know when I shall see you again,

And have the strangest feeling that perhaps I never will.

Somehow I feel my time might be coming to a close,

Although I know not why,

How or when.

All I do know is life can be difficult at times,

And I have never blamed you for staying away,

Although I wish I had seen more of you.

But there are some things I should have told you many years ago,

And this is why I am writing to you now,

So that should anything happen to me I will have passed my knowledge on to the next generation.

There are stories which I heard at my grandmother's knee,

Told to her in just the same way,

And all are centred around the chapel and the holy well along the valley.

These are only stories,

Legends passed down,

And no doubt have changed through the course of time,

But I will leave it to you to interpret them as you choose.

Firstly,

From before the dawning of time as we know it,

There is the story of a young girl who defended the sacred well against an evil magician,

And retrieved a crystal of great power,

Although she had to journey to the other world to do so,

And in the end sacrificed her one true love.

There is another tale of a young woman who outwitted a band of monks,

To claim back the well for the old ways,

Becoming a great healer.

And finally,

A story set at the time when worship at the chapel and the celebration of the seasons was at its height,

But one night the priestess and her maidens mysteriously disappeared,

Never to be found again.

It had been foretold that without the maidens the land would become a wasteland,

And indeed in my time the chapel is no more,

And the well runs into a muddy pool covered in brambles.

I have done my best to change this,

But mine is a simple magic,

And I can only hope and pray it is powerful enough to bring about the changes we need,

And for the maidens of the wells to return,

Reforging the link between nature,

The other world and the people of today.

I have cast a simple spell for the resurrection of the chapel,

The return of the maidens,

And for life,

Spirit and hope to come back to the valley,

The chapel and holy well once again.

One more thing I must add.

It has always been said that the relics of St Clether disappeared at some point in the past,

But there has been a mystery surrounding where they were.

We recently discovered some bones buried near the holy well.

Whether these were the relics of St Clether I do not know,

But there was a strange feeling as we found them,

And we covered them over again,

Feeling it was the right thing to do.

I will leave it to you,

Dear Rachel,

Or whoever reads this at whatever time in the future,

To decide what to do when the time comes.

It breaks my heart to see the chapel and wells so neglected,

But I have done all I can,

And only trust that when this is read some change will have occurred.

At times in the past the bloodline of those who care for the chapel has failed,

Yet always another appears to continue the work,

For the forces which guide us and care for the place are infinitely more powerful than we ourselves.

One last thing.

There's a carved wooden box containing some items which have been passed down through the generations along with the stories.

Treasure it with care,

For although I do not know the history of all the pieces,

I feel them to be of great importance,

And some are of a great age.

And finally,

Never forget the sun,

The moon,

And the stars.

The eternal cycle of the seasons.

The four elements of earth,

Air,

Fire,

And water.

The ground beneath your feet,

Upon which we all depend for nourishment.

The Earth Mother and the Green Father.

Remember to journey in the name of love,

Light,

And all that is good,

And to be aware of the magic which lies all around.

A simple magic,

But always there for those who are chosen.

Take care,

My dear.

Your loving mother,

Rose.

We sat in silence for a while,

The words of Rose clearing our minds,

As if she was in the room with us.

Some lady commented Joanne eventually,

It's sort of magical,

Isn't it?

Wish I'd known her.

Cornelius nodded.

Apparently Charles had no offspring,

And on his death the house and land went to a nephew,

And at some point one of the family must have married one of Rose's descendants.

He looked up,

Understanding dawning in his eyes.

Do you remember I said he'd given the chapel to someone called Rachel?

It's all beginning to fall into place now.

If the families intermarried,

It would account for the letter being here.

I started researching some family history a while back,

And of course Rachel was Rose's daughter.

And I do believe you now live in Rose's cottage,

Rowena.

It's always been a part of the estate.

There was a silence as we all contemplated Rose's words and their implications.

When you think about it,

I began.

Shortly afterwards,

The Reverend Baringold and the Vicar of Altenan restored the chapel.

I paused.

Do you think it was anything to do with Rose?

Cornelius shook his head slowly.

It's an interesting thought,

But we'll never know.

Pure and simple magic is the strongest,

Cut in Dan in a firm voice,

And things often come about in ways you least expect them.

It's an amazing story anyway.

I picked up the papers and carefully folded them back into the package.

I wish I'd known her too.

I wish these papers could tell me more.

I wish.

A tear trickled down my cheek.

I would never have expected to become so emotional,

But it was as if all my longing for the mother I never knew had risen to the surface in Rose's writings.

But you know more about her than you realise.

It was Dan who pulled me gently back to reality.

You look after the chapel she loved so much.

You even live in her cottage.

And I have her box,

I interrupted.

The one mentioned in the letter.

My mind wandered to the small earthenware bowl I had found in the cupboards beneath the stairs,

And briefly wondered if it had also belonged to Rose.

I decided to add it to the contents of the box when I got home.

I think,

Said Cornelius,

You should keep these papers,

Rowena.

You heard what it said about someone always coming along to look after the chapel.

Well,

It's you.

You're the next in line.

She really is a part of you,

Said Dan.

He reached out,

Briefly touching my hand,

And I felt comforted.

I smiled at him.

For an instant our eyes met,

But I was unable to fathom his expression and turned away.

There was an understanding,

Maybe a love,

But definitely a deep knowledge which stretched back further than the short time we had known each other.

Awesome,

Breathed Joanne,

Completely oblivious to my emotional turmoil.

What are we going to do now?

Can we dig up the relics?

Cool.

He appeared about to jump up and rush straight out with a spade to begin.

Can't,

I told him,

Even if I wanted to,

And I'm not sure there's something to be disturbed,

But the chapel and the enclosure are scheduled,

Which means we can't dig without proper permission,

And that would take ages,

Even if it was granted at all.

Oh,

Blow,

Joanne looked crestfallen,

Then smiled again.

It's obvious to me,

He continued,

Before any of us had time to even begin to grasp what he was talking about,

We have to solve the mystery.

We have to find the maidens.

He grinned as if he had just solved a puzzle and was expecting the prize.

And how exactly do you propose to do that?

Dan met Joanne's enthusiasm with a rolling of his eyes,

A gesture I had come to expect when Joanne launched into one of his unlikely plans.

They aren't exactly a group of women waiting to be rescued,

You know.

They haven't just broken down at the side of the road waiting for a lift.

It's a legend,

That's all.

Have you stopped to think,

Began Cornelius,

In a reasonable tone,

What this legend is really about?

Joanne gazed at him.

Lost maidens,

Of course,

He replied.

And when you come to think of it,

I'm the obvious one of us to find them.

After all,

I spend most of my spare time dressed as a knight,

And it's just,

Well,

Fitting.

It's my quest,

My duty.

Cornelius sighed.

There's more to it than that,

He began.

The legend of the Lost Maidens of the Wells is really all about balance being restored.

Look,

It's here in one of these books.

He rifled through a box,

The contents of which he appeared familiar with,

And pulling out a well-thumbed volume of Celtic lore,

Began to read.

The Story of the Maidens of the Wells From the beginning of civilisation,

Water has been considered the home of wisdom,

And prophecy and wisdom went hand in hand in the ancient world.

In classical Greece,

Priestesses took up residence within a nearby grotto or cave,

And drank the water before going into trance for oracular knowledge.

Once,

So the legend goes,

Every well had its attendant priestess.

These were the mysterious damsels of the wells,

Described in a medieval grail text.

The story goes that long ago in the rich country of Logres,

An archaic term for Britain,

Tired hunters or travellers found refreshment at sacred grottos where a spring gushed out.

Here they were given food and drink by the damsels of the wells,

Maidens who were the guardians,

Or perhaps the spirits,

Of these holy places.

But one day,

An evil king raped one of them and stole her golden cup,

And his followers treated the other maidens likewise.

After this,

The grottos were empty,

The wells dried up,

And the countryside was stricken with drought.

The land was dead and desert,

So that they lost the voices of the wells and the maidens who were in them.

The voices of the wells suggest that the maidens were also oracles.

Like the priestesses of ancient Greece,

They sat at the entrance to a sacred well,

One of the gates into the other world,

Where they had a direct line to the spirit within the earth.

When the damsels of the wells were violated,

The channels to the other world were severed,

Leaving the world cut off from its wisdom.

Its spiritual riches,

Once so accessible to humankind,

Were withdrawn,

And since then the court of the rich fisher,

Which made the land to shine with gold and silver,

With furs and precious stuffs,

With food of all kinds,

With falcons,

Hawks and sparrow-hawks,

Could no longer be found.

In those days when the court could still be found,

There were riches and abundance everywhere,

But now all these were lost to the land of Logres.

Extract from Kindling the Celtic Spirit by Mara Freeman So you see,

He finished,

It's really all about the balance between the masculine and the feminine being restored,

About the need for both,

Not one or the other.

Sounds about right to me,

Cut in Dan,

I always say if you want to know what's right,

You look to nature,

And there's always a balance.

He pulled himself to his feet.

Now the bonfire is well and truly finished,

I'm going to leave you good people to your books.

Thanks for the tea.

Cornelius followed Dan to the front door and Joanne turned to me,

A deadly serious look in his eyes.

I'll find them,

He murmured softly.

I'll find them and then you'll have your maidens of the wells back again.

I laughed but Joanne shook his head.

It's my duty as a knight of the realm.

He touched my arm.

I'll do anything for you and justice will be done,

You just wait and see.