 Chapter 11 of the Book of Saints and Friendly Beasts. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Larry Wilson. The Book of Saints and Friendly Beasts by Abbey Farwell Brown. The Ballad of St. Felix. It was in sunny Italy where the skies are blue and fair, where little birds sing all the day and flowers scent the air. But sorrow was through all the land and bloody deeds and strife, where the cruel heathen emperor was slain Christian life, and Nola of Campania was full of soldiers grand, who sought where good St. Felix dwelt to be the death of him. For he, the bishop old and wise, was famous far and near, and to the troubled Christian folk his name was passing dear. St. Felix would not run away, but thought no shame to hide until the bloody storm passed o'er, and he might safely bide. And so he doft his bishops robe and donned a pilgrim's dress, with hat and staff and sandal shewn, so none his name would guess. Now a St. Felix bent in gray was tottering down the street, abandoned soldiers fierce and wild, the old man chanced to meet. Oh pilgrim, cried the captain-stern, who stopped him with his sword, and to retruely, o'er thy life shall pay the line word. We sought for Felix at his home, we find him not alas. Say, hast thou met him for within the hour he did pass? Tell us true, o'er thou shalt lose thy head. St. Felix looked him in the eyes. I met him, not he said. So then the soldiers let him pass, but he had spoken truth, and hurried forward on their search a fruitless quest ensued. And good St. Felix hastened too as quickly as he might, for they would guess both soon he knew how he had tricked their sight. And truly, o'er his oaken staff had helped his feeble feet to win a mile, he heard their shouts nearing down the street, he heard the cashing of their swords, their voices gruel war, halak, the chase was almost done, where he could speed no more. All breathless, worn and clean for spent, he looked about him there. He spied a tiny ray of hope and made a little prayer. There was a broken road-wall that crumbled by the road, and threw a cleft St. Felix script, and in a corner-boat. It was a sorry hiding-place that scarce could hope to escape, the king cited those bloody men for murder all a game. But lo, an answer to his prayer made in the holy name to help St. Felix in his need, a little spider came. And there, across the narrow hole, through which St. Felix fled, the spiders spun a heavy web out of her silken thread, so fast she spun, so faithfully, that when the soldiers came to pause beside the ruined wall and shout the bishop's name, they found a silken curtain there, so fast she spun, so faithfully, that when the soldiers came to pause beside the ruined wall and shout the bishop's name, they found a silken curtain there, where through they could not see. And, ho! they said. He is not here. Look, look, it cannot be. No one has passed this spider's web for many and many a day. See, men, how it is thick and strong. And so they went away. And this is how St. Felix fared to escape the threatened doom, saved by a little spider's web spun from her wondrous loom. For when the soldiers all had passed it luckily befell among the ruins of the walls, he found a half-duck well. And there he hid for many months, safe from the eager eyes of all those cruel soldier men and money-seeking spies. And on the eve when this thing chanced, a Christian dame was passing by the ruined wall, calling her bishop's name. For well she knew he must be hid and came to bring him food. And so he answered from the well, St. Felix, old and good. And for the many weary months she came there day by day, all stealthily to bring him bread, so no one guessed the way. And when at last the peace was made, St. Felix left as well, what welcome of his folk he had there are no words to tell. End of Chapter 11 Chapter 11 of the Book of Saints and Friendly Beasts This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The Book of Saints and Friendly Beasts by Abbey Farwell-Brown Chapter 11 St. Fronto's Camels This is a story of Egypt. In the midst of a great yellow sea of sand was a tiny green island of an oasis. Everywhere else the sunlight burned on sand and rocks and low, bare hills to the west. But here there was shade under the palm trees, at a spring of cool, clear water. It seemed a pleasant place, but the men who were living here were far from happy. There was grumbling and discontent. There were sulky looks and frowns. Yet these men were trying to be holy hermits, to live beautiful lives and forget how to be selfish. But it is hard to be good when one is starving. There were seventy of them in this lonely camp in the desert. Seventy hungry monks, who for many days had had only a few olives to eat, and they blamed one man for all their suffering. It was Fronto who would induce them to leave the pleasant monastery at Natria, where the rest of their brethren were living in peace and plenty. It was Fronto who had led them into this miserable desert to serve God in solitude, as holy men loved to do in the early days of Christendom. Fronto was a holy man, full of faith and courage. He had promised that they should be fed and cared for in the desert, even though they took no care for themselves, and they had believed him. So each monk took a few olives in his pouch and a double-pronged hoe to dig and plant corn with, and followed Fronto into the desert. After trudging many days they found this spot, far to the east, where no caravans would come to interrupt them, for it was out of the way of travel. But soon also they found their provisions gone and no others forthcoming. What were they to do? They asked Fronto, but he only bade them be patient. It was when they had borne the pangs of hunger for several days that they began to grumble and talk of returning home. But Fronto was indignant. The Lord will provide, he said, oh ye of little faith. And he bade them go to work and try to forget their hunger. The monks drew the cords tighter about their waists, but that did little good. They had never fasted like this before. Day by day they grew more pale and thin, and their long robes flapped about their lean limbs. The few dates which grew on the palm trees of their oasis were long since eaten, and the poor monks went about chewing the knotted ends of their rope girdles, trying to pretend that it was bread. Oh, how they longed for even a bit of the hard black bread which was lent and fair at the monastery beyond the hills. Day by day they grew more hollow-cheeked and despairing. At last one evening they came to Fronto in a body, such a weak pale body. Take us back to Natria, or we starve, they cried. We can endure this no longer. Fronto stood before them, even more pale and mourned than the rest. But with the light of beautiful trust in his eyes. Wait yet a little longer, brothers, he begged. We are bidden to take no thought to the morrow, what we shall eat and drink. Nay, tis today we think of interrupted the monks. If we could eat today, we would indeed take no thought of the morrow, but we starve. Patience, brothers, continued the saint wearily. If we return now, we shall show that we distrust God's promise. Wait till tomorrow. If help come not then, I give you leave to go without me. I shall not return. The monks withdrew, still grumbling and unhappy. But the words of the saint had made some impression, and they agreed to wait until morning. Each monk stretched himself on his goatskin mat on the floor of the little cell which he had dug in the sand. And with groans of hunger mingled in their prayers they tried to go to sleep and forget how long it was since their last breakfast. But Fronto could not sleep. He was sad and disappointed because his brothers had lost their faith and because he felt alone, deserted in this desert by the friends who should have helped him with their sympathy and trust. All night he knelt on his goatskin mat praying that the Lord would fulfill his promise now and proved to the doubting monks how mistaken their lack of faith had been. The other monks slept a hungry sleep about him, dreaming of delicious things to eat. Now and then one of them would cry out, Another help of pudding, please, or Brother, will you pass the toast? Or Thank you, I will have an egg, brother. And Fronto wept as he heard how faint their voices were. At last the pink fingers of morning began to spread themselves over the face of the sky, pinching its cheeks into a rosy red. Suddenly Fronto, who was on his knees with his back to the door of his cell, started. Hark! What sound was that which came floating on the fresh morning air? Surely the tinkle of a bell. The good saint rose from his mat and went hastily to the door, his sure hope sending a smile to his pale lips and color to his hollow cheek. He knew that his prayer was answered, and lo, away in the northwest he saw a thread of black crawling like a caterpillar over the sand toward his oasis. Near and near it came, and now he could see plainly what it was. A line of great rocking camels, the little tinkling bells on whose harness gave the signal that hope was at hand. But the sound had waked the other monks, where the cry of joy they came tumbling out of their cells and rushed toward the camels, which were now close to the camp. How the poor monks ran, to be sure, many of them tripping over the skirts of their long robes and falling flat in the sand from their weakness and excitement. They were like men on a sinking ship who had just caught sight of a rescuing sail. Some of them jumped up and down and clapped their hands like children they were so glad, and tears stood in the eyes of nearly all. There were seventy camels, soft-eyed, gentle creatures, whose flat feet held them up on the soft sand like snowshoes. They bore packs upon their backs which promised good things, and they came straight to the cell of fronto where they stopped. And what a welcome they received! The monks threw their arms about the beasts' necks as they knelt on the sand and kissed the soft noses as though they were greeting long-lost brothers. They were so glad to see the camels themselves that they almost forgot to wonder once they came or what they were bringing, but fronto was looking for their owner, for the man who drove them. There was no one to be found. They had come all alone across a desert without anyone to guide them. Fronto's face was full of joy. The Lord has sent them, he said, and the other monks bowed their heads and were ashamed because they had doubted. Hungry though they were, first of all the good monks tended to the tired beasts who had come so far to save them. They relieved them from their heavy loads and tenderly washed their hot, weary feet and gave them drafts of the spring water. Some of the starving monks scurried away to gather the green grass of the oasis for their hungry friends and others unfasten the bails of hay which some of the camels had brought and made beds for the animals to lie on. Then they all fell to and built a fold over the seventy camels in the shade of the palm trees, and here they left the patient creatures to rest and chew their cud with a sigh of relief that the long, hot journey was over. Then the monks hurried back to fronto, wondering if it were not now almost time for their breakfast. They came upon him reading a letter which he had found on the harness of the foremost camel. It was written from the city of Alexandria and it explained how the camels had been sent. Four nights before this, Glaucas, the rich merchant, had been resting on a couch in his summer house. He had just finished an excellent dinner with all his favorite fishes and meats and fruits and sweets, and he was feeling very happy. When suddenly he thought of the seventy monks who had gone out from Atria many days before to live in the desert with the help which the Lord would should send, and a pang smote him. Perhaps they were starving now while he was feasting and he wished he could help them to a dinner as good as his. Ha! An idea came to him. Why should he not indeed send them a dinner? Many dinners. It should be done. So the next morning he had loaded seventy camels with provisions, five of them with bales of hay for the camels themselves, and taking them to the border of the desert without driver or anyone to guide them, he had sent them out into the sea of sand, the great ships of the desert, to find the right harbor by themselves. For somehow he felt sure that the Lord would guide them safely to the monks. Here the letter of Glaucas ended. Oh, how good that breakfast tasted to the poor famished monks! There were all kinds of fruit, fresh figs and olives and dates, citrons and juicy grapes and yellow pomegranates. There were bread and oil which the monks loved, and nuts and combs of the most delicious golden honey such as it makes one's mouth water to think of. Glaucas had sent them a breakfast fit for a king, and they all sat down on the sand in a happy circle and had the finest picnic that was ever seen in that desert. When they had eaten, they went out once more to visit the camels who had saved their lives and to thank them with caressing words. The camels seemed to understand and looked at them with gentle eyes, chewing their cud earnestly as if thinking, You see, the Lord was looking out for you all the time. We are only poor dumb beasts, but we came straight to you across the desert without any fear or wandering because we trusted. Why were you not trustful too? And again the monks were very much ashamed to go back to Fronto to beg his forgiveness, promising never again to be faint-hearted nor to lose faith. The next morning they made ready to send back the camels to Alexandria for they knew Glaucas would be anxious to hear how his ships of the desert had fared on their errand, and half the provisions they returned for they had more than enough to last them a year according to their simple meals. Then with tears in their eyes, the monks sent the great beast forth again into the desert, confident that as they had come so they would find their way back to Alexandria, safe and sound. Each in his cell door the monks stood and watched them slowly winding away over the yellow sand, disappearing at last behind the hills which rose like great waves between them and the world of cities. Now it is eight days since Glaucas had sent out the camels, and he was growing uneasy. Seventy camels are a valuable property which even a rich man could not afford to lose. Glaucas feared that he had been foolish. The desert was full of robbers, and there was no one to protect this leaderless caravan. Would the Lord take care of affairs which were left holy to his direction? Glaucas was sitting with his family in the garden, silent and gloomy. His family felt that he had been rash, and they did not hesitate to tell him so, which made him still more unhappy. The leader camel was the favorite of Glaucas' daughter, Amelia. She was crying in a corner of the garden, thinking about her dear Humpo, whom she never expected to see again. When, just as fronto had done, she heard a faraway tinkle. She jumped up and ran out to the road. What is it, Amelia, my child? called out her father, startled by her sudden movement. Oh, father, father, she cried. I think I hear the tinkle of a camel bell among the mountains. And sure enough, as they all hurried down to the garden gate, the sound of little bells drew nearer and nearer, and came in sight the line of seventy camels, Humpo at the head, half of them loaded with the provisions, which the monks were too unselfish to keep. And soon Amelia had her arms about the neck of her dear Humpo, and was whispering nice things into his floppy ears, as he knelt before her, looking lovingly at her with his big brown eyes. Thus it was that Glaucas, the good rich man, knew that the Lord was pleased with him for his kindness, and had helped him to do his duty. And every year after that, he sent the seventy camels forth into the desert, on their unguided errand to the far-off Oasis. So they grew to be dear friends of Saint Fronto and his monks, looked for as eagerly as Santa Claus is at Christmas time. End of Chapter 11 Chapter 12 of The Book of Saints and Friendly Beasts This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Ali. The Book of Saints and Friendly Beasts by Abby Farwell-Brown Chapter 12 The Blind Singer, Saint Erfe Once upon a time, when Chaudibère was king of France a thousand years ago, there lived a young man named Ivernon, who was very handsome and had the sweetest voice. Ivernon was the king's mistress. He lived at the palace, and it was his business to make music for the king to keep him in a good temper. For he wrote the most beautiful songs and sang them to the accompaniment of a golden harp, which he carried with him everywhere he went. And besides all this, Ivernon was very wise. So wise that when he was a boy at school he was called the Little Sage for Saint Cadot had been his master and had taught him many things that even the king, who was a heathen, did not know. Now Ivernon had lived four years with the king when one night he had a wonderful dream. He dreamed that he saw a beautiful maiden picking flowers in a meadow and that she smiled at him and gave him a blossom saying, This is for my king. And Ivernon woke up longing to see the maiden more than anything else in the world. For three nights he dreamed the same dream of the singing maiden and the meadow and the flowers. And each time she seemed more beautiful than on the last. So on the fourth day he woke up and said, I must find that maiden. I must find her and hear her call me her king. So taking his golden harp on his back he went out from the palace and struck into the deep black forest. By and by he came to an open place like a meadow where the grass grew tall and thick and where in the midst was a spring like a bit of mirror set in a green frame. And Ivernon's heart beat fast with joy when he saw on the border of the spring the very maiden about whom he had dreamed but much more beautiful than any dream. She was bending over, picking something from the grass and she seemed like a wonderful pink and white flower set among the other flowers of yellow and red and blue. For a moment Ivernon stood and gazed with open mouth and happy eyes. Then he took his harp and began to sing a song which he had just that minute made. For because he was a minstrel it was easier for him to sing than to talk. And in the song he called her green iris gathering flowers for her crown. Then the maiden raised her head and she turned pinker and wider and looked even more like a fair flower than before. For she too had had a dream three times and it was a golden haired Ivernon that she had dreamed whom she now saw looking at her and singing so sweetly with his silver voice. But she also answered him in a song for she was a singer too. I am no queen iris she sang I am only the little maiden Ivernon though they call me queen of this fountain and I am not gathering flowers as you say fair sir but I am seeking simple herbs such as wise men used to cure pain and trouble. What are the herbs you seek Ivernon asked Ivernon coming nearer she held up a sprig of green in her wide hand see this is the vervain she answered in song this brings happiness and hearts ease but I seek two others which I have not found the second opens the eyes of the blind and the third few may ever find that precious herb the third is the root of life and that its touch death flees away alas fair sir I cannot find those two though someday I feel that I shall need them both most solely Ivernon sighed and two tears stood like dew drops in her flower eyes but Ivernon had now come very close still you have found the first which gives happiness little queen he sang tenderly have you not happiness to share with me Ivernon then the maiden looked up in his eyes and smiled and held out to him a sprig of the green vervain for my king she sang just as he had dreamed and then he did just what she had dreamed he would do but that is a secret which I cannot tell for no one knows all that a maiden dreams and after this and that they came back to the king's palace hand in hand singing a beautiful song which together they had made about happiness so they were married at the court and the king did them great honor and made them king and queen of music and of song so happily they lived and happily they sang in their little kingdom of Posey for did they not possess the herb of joy which Ivernon had found and shared with Ivernon her king but it was a pity that Ivernon had not also found those other plans for which she had been seeking the root which brings light to the blind and the root which gives life to the dying because Ivernon had foreseen only too well the need of them which would come to her for when after a year or two their little son was born his blue eyes were sightless and all the colored wonders of the world were secrets which he could never know so they named him Ervi which means bitterness the first bitterness which had come into their lives of joy but it was not the last not long after the little Ervi came golden-haired Ivernon lay ill and dying and because on that spring morning Ivernon had not found the herb of life she could not keep him from going away to find it for himself in that fair country where it is the only plant that grows with wonderful blossoms which no living man has ever seen so Ivernon passed away from his kingdom of music and song which he left to be shared by dear Ivernon and Ervi his little son thus Ervi became a prince heir to all the gifts of that royal pair and of these there were in particular four of the best a beautiful face the sweetest voice that ever thrilled in Brittany the golden harp of Ivernon, his father and many a lovely song made by those two which Ivernon taught him what a wonderful kingdom that was to be his what beautiful gifts for a little boy to own but even in a kingdom of this sort one has to bear sorrows and discomforts just as folk do in other kingdoms which are less fair Ervi's name meant bitterness and there was much bitterness in his little life before he learned what a prince he really was for he was blind and could not play with the other children Ivernon was a poor widow and there was no one to earn bread for the two sometimes the carols which they sang together were the only breakfast to begin the day sometimes the songs Ivernon made beside his bed at night were the only food Ervi had tasted since sunrise sometimes they were both so hungry that they could not sing at all and those were sad times indeed but when Ervi was seven years old a great idea came to him Ivernon lay ill and miserable and there was nothing to eat in the house Ervi sat by her side holding her hand and wishing there was something he could do about it blind as he was he had never been out of the house alone Ervi courage came to him in hope through his great idea I will save you dear mother he cried throwing his arms about her neck I will take father's golden harp and go out upon the highway and sing your beautiful songs people will give me pennies and I shall buy you food so carrying the golden harp on his back in his ragged clothes and bare feet the old fellow went out stumbling and feeling his way along the hard road now almost at the first corner he met a white dog who seemed to have no master this creature came sniffling and winding up to Ervi and licked his hand and when the boy went on the dog followed close at his side as if to guide and protect him Ervi asked everyone he met whose dog it was but they all said it was a strange dog come from nowhere and belonged to no one it seemed almost as if the beast had been sent specifically for Ervi so at last he said you shall be my dog and at that the great white beast jumped up and barked for joy Ervi fastened a rope about the dog's neck and kept one hand in his hand so now he had someone to guide and guard him for the dog was very careful and kind and took care that Ervi never stumbled nor went astray into the ditch by the side of the road it must have been a hard-hearted man indeed who had no pennies to spare for the blind boy led by the white dog with his bare feet blue with cold his teeth chattering and his eyes turned wistfully up to the sky which he could not see he was a sad little figure to meet on the lonely Brittany roads and he sang so sweetly too no one had ever heard such a voice as that nor such beautiful songs everyone who heard gave him money so he was helping his mother getting her food and medicine and clothes to keep her warm and this thought comforted him when he was shivering with cold his rags blown about by the wind and soaked in the rain day after day week after week Ervi trudged along the flinty roads often he limped with cold bleeding feet which the fateful dog would try to lick warm again often he was very tired and sometimes he was sad when people were not kind but this seldom happened once Ervi was passing through a strange village where all the folk were heathen and a band of naughty children began to dance about him and tease him pulling his hair and twitching his cloak and they mocked his music singing blind boy, blind boy where are you going blind boy then it is said that a wonderful thing happened Ervi was sorry because they were so cruel and unkind and he struck a strange chord of music on his harp and sang in a low clear voice dance on bright eyes who can see dance on children who mock a poor blind boy dance on and never stop so long as the world wags and it is said that the wicked children are still dancing over the world and back around and around tired though they must be and they will be still more tired before all is done for they must whirl and pirouette until the end of the world and that is a long time even for children who love to dance at a different time another unkind thing happened to Saint Ervi but this time it was a beast who hurt his feelings and this was strange for usually the beasts loved him and tried to help him as the white dog had done but after all this was only a mistake yet it was a sad mistake for it caused Ervi the life of his faithful guide this is how it happened as Ervi and his dog were passing along a lonely road a black wolf sprang out upon them him is took the dog for an ancient enemy of his another wolf for indeed Blanco looked like a white wolf a wolf such as Saint Bridget gave the king of Ireland and without stopping to find out who he really was which would have saved all the trouble they had a terrible fight and poor Blanco was killed by the huge black wolf then Ervi was sad indeed he cried and sobbed and was so wretched that the wolf was sorry besides as soon as the fight was over the wolf had found out his mistake and saw that it was a strange dog whom he had killed no wolf enemy at all he was very much ashamed he came up to Ervi and found at his feet trying to tell that he was sorry and asking what he should do about it so Ervi told him that if he would be his dog now instead of Blanco he would try to forgive the wolf though he was oh so sorry to lose his faithful dog after that Ervi went on his wanderings led by a big black wolf whom he held in a strong leather leash and the wolf became as dear to him as Blanco had been he slept in the barn with the oxen when he was at home and never snapped nor bit at them as most wolves would do but he kept sharp watch over his little master and saw that no one heard or cheated him I should be sorry to think what would have happened to anyone who had dared to touch Ervi while the wolf was near and he was always near with his sharp teeth and watchful eyes so they wandered and wandered together Ervi and the wolf carrying music from town to town the Sans of the Dernion and Revanon but Ervi had not yet learned to make Sans of his own now after seven years of wandering Ervi had earned money enough to keep his mother in comfort he longed to go to school and be taught things to grow wise like his father who had been called the Little Sage and to learn how to make Sans for himself for he felt that it was time for him to come into the kingdom of the Dernion and Revanon and the Sans shot in his heart were bursting to come out Gourvoyed, the brother of Revanon was a holy hermit who lived alone in the forest and he would teach Ervi his nephew for love of him for Gourvoyed was a wise man skilled in all things but especially in the making of Sans it was a blessed morning when Ervi started for his school in the woods he was going to his kingdom the sunlight framed his fair curls in a halo of light as if giving him a blessing birds sang all along the way as if telling him that with Gourvoyed he would learn to make music even sweeter than theirs the wolf led him eagerly, bounding with joy for he shared in all the hopes of Ervi's life and all the creatures knew that he would become a great poet and so indeed it was for Ervi soon learned all that Gourvoyed could teach and in his turn he became a master many pupils came to the hut in the forest which the hermit gave up to him and begged Ervi to make them singer poets like himself but he could not do that he could teach them to sing and to play the harp but no one could sing as well as he sang or play as well as he played and no one can ever be taught to make poetry unless he has it in his soul as Ervi had for that is a royal gift and it came to Ervi from Evernon and Revenon the king and queen of music and of song it was Ervi's kingdom and it was given him to take away the bitterness from his name to make it remembered as Sui, Sui, Sui and now on his wanderings from town to town Ervi was received like a prince he sat at great lords tables and sang in the latest bowers he had golden gullblets as his gifts and shining gems to wear if he chose but he was so generous that he gave them all away never was there heard music so sweet as his never were their songs so beautiful as he sang to the rippling of his father's golden harp for Ervi was even a greater minstrel than Evernon or Revenon had been in his wanderings all about the country Ervi came to many strange places and met with many strange adventures once he spent the night at the castle of a great lord who made Ervi sit on his right hand at table and honored him above all his guests when the banquet was over at the count's request a page brought to Ervi his golden harp and they all shouted for a song, a song everyone pushed back his stool to listen and Ervi took the harp and ran his finger over the golden strings with a sound like drops of rain upon the flowers now outside the castle beyond the moat was a pond and in the pond lived a whole colony of great green bullfrogs whose voices were grougher and grummer than the lowest twanging note on Ervi's harp and as soon as Ervi began to sing these rude frogs began to bellow and growl as if trying to drown his music perhaps they were jealous for Ervi's voice was sweeter than a serval bell but all they could sing was which is neither very musical nor very original being the same tune which all the frog people have sung from the earliest days now Ervi was displeased by their disagreeable noise he could not sing nor play nor think of the words which belonged with his music only that sounded in his ears and it grew louder and louder every moment as one by one all the frogs joined in the chorus Ervi waited for them to stop but when he found that they did not mean to do this but were really trying to drown his voice he was very angry he strode to the window holding his harp in his hand and leaning far out he struck another of his wonderful chords of music such as a charmed the mocking children once before as you remember sing your last song of frogs he said sing your last karchok for henceforth you will be silent I command you from this night never to open your mouths again all save one the littlest of you all and he shall sing forever without cease to remind you of your rudeness to me and no sooner had he ceased speaking when there came a great silence outside the window broken only by one we-piping tadpole voice karchok karchok he chanted his sad little solo and all alone he had to sing the same tune forever I dare say one can hear him yet in the greenie pond outside that old French castle now after many years of wandering of singing of making beautiful songs of teaching and wandering again Hervé's dear mother Revanon died but he still had someone to love and look for him in the wolf when he came home from his travels for Revanon had adopted a dear little girl named Christine beautiful as sunshine and sweet as a flower she called Hervé uncle and loved him dearly and the wolf was a great friend of hers so at last he thought to settle down and make music about him in his own home letting people to come there to hear it instead of carrying it to them by road and river for he was growing an old man and it was not so easy to travel in his blindness as it used to be besides the black wolf was also growing grey and needed rest after these long years of faithful work Hervé resolved to build a church and to live there with Christine near him in a little house of her own he had grown to be an important personage in the world and had many friends pupils and followers who wanted to live near him so forth they set to find a place for their church Hervé in his troop of black road monks and before them like a little white dove among the ravens ran Christine holding her uncle's hand in one of hers and in the other grasping the leash at which tugged the grizzled old wolf who was guiding them over many a hill and dale and blew me meadow he had led Hervé before now down many a lane and village street but never upon so important a journey as this for this was to be the old wolf's last long tramp with his master and the wolf was to choose the spot where the church should stand where he stopped to rest there would they lay the first stone so he led them on and on and at last he lay down in a green spot by a river just the place for a beautiful church to grow up and thence forth Hervé the minstrel would wonder no more but bide and rest and be happy with the wolf and Christine they built her an arbor near the church in a clump of willows on the border of a spring it was cone shaped and covered with straw like a huge beehive and Christine herself seemed like a busy bee gathering honey as she bust in and out among the roses humming little tunes below her breath for she was always among the flowers as Révenon had been every Saturday morning she would rise early and with her little basket on her arm would go out to pick the blossoms with a dew still on them and every Saturday evening she came to the church with her arms full of flowers till she looked like a bouquet of sweetness and going into the empty church she would busy herself with arranging the flowers for the next morning service for it was her duty to see that Uncle Hervé's church was kept clean and sweet and beautiful and while Christine stood there putting the flowers into tall golden vases singing softly the songs which Révenon had taught her her Uncle Hervé would come creeping up the steps of the church his hand on the head of the wolf who always led him to the place where he heard her voice softly, very softly as if he were doing something naughty Hervé would pull open the heavy door just a crack the better to hear her sing then he would put his ear to the opening while the wolf would thrust his nose in below and wag his tail eagerly but Christine's keen ears always heard them no matter how slyly the good-blind man crept up to that door and it became part of the game that she should cry out suddenly I see you Uncle, I see you and though he could not see her at all he would start and pop back pulling the wolf with him as though he had done something wrong then without making any noise they would tiptoe away to Hervé's house their hearts beating with love and a dear little maiden who would soon come to bid them good night on her way home to her bower so they lived happily all the rest of their days these three among the flowers and in spite of his name Hervé's life was not one of bitterness but of joy the kingdom which had come to him from Ivernion in Revenon was his all his life long and though he no longer wandered from town to town the songs which he made wandered still from heart to heart and long, long afterwards their echo made music through the land of Brittany as the fragrance of a flower lasts long after the flower has passed on its way elsewhere Dear Saint Hervé End of Chapter 12 Chapter 13 of the Book of Saints and Friendly Beasts This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org The Book of Saints and Friendly Beasts by Abbey Farwell-Brown Chapter 13 St. Comgal and the Mice At the place where the Irish Sea is narrowest is the town of Bangor. There the green hills of St. Patrick's Island smile over at the purple cliffs of Scotland across the lane of water where the ships pass to and fro just as neighbors nod across a narrow street above the heads of the passersby. And here at Bangor St. Comgal built a monastery 1300 long years ago. This does not sound very interesting but it was interesting to many people in those days and I think it will be interesting to you. For Comgal is an Irish word which means the goodly pledge and the man who bore this name was a goodly pledge of friendship between man and beast. Comgal had many pupils in his monastery and many friends living near who loved and honored him. They did splendid things together and tales of their doings were put into great books. But the most interesting stories of all are about certain friends of St. Comgal who could not speak Irish and who did not wear clothes. Some of these friends wore feathers and some wore fur. The strangest story of all is about his friends with long tails and very sharp teeth. But you must wait for that till I have told about the swans. One day Comgal was walking with some friends on the bank of a pond. All of a sudden through the rushes and the tall grass someone spied six beautiful white swans floating on the water preening their fine feathers and arching their necks proudly. For they could see in the water just as if it were a mirror how handsome they were and it made them vain. Comgal's pupils as they always called their teacher father in those days see the lovely swans may we not coax them ashore we want to play with them. Comgal chuckled inside for he felt sure that the swans would not come to them because they were strangers but he said with a twinkle in his eye oh yes boys call them here if you can but you must give them something to tempt them or I fear they will hardly come. Then the boys tried to find a nest of bread or some crumbs in their pockets to throw to the swans but no one had anything not even a peanut for peanuts were not invented in those days. They stood on the bank whistling and calling trying in every way to make the swans swim ashore but the birds only cocked their red-rimmed eyes at the boys and fluttered their wings timidly. We don't know you they squawked with their harsh voices the like of you are no friends of ours you go away and leave our pond in peace all this time Comgal had been standing behind them on the bank laughing at the vain attempts of his pupils but now he walked quietly down to the pond making a little croony sound in his throat he put out his hand towards the swans but with no crumbs to tempt them the swans had never before seen him but as soon as they heard his voice you should have seen the commotion how the water did wrinkle and spatter as those dignified birds scurried headlong towards Comgal each one seemed trying to be the first to reach his side and each one flapped his wings and went almost into a fit for fear another should get ahead of him so finally they reached the bank and gathered around Comgal talking to him all at once and telling him how much they liked the look of him and one great white swan fluttered into the old man's lap and sat there letting himself be stroked with a long neck up to Comgal's face and trying to kiss him with beaky lips you can imagine how the pupils stared at this strange sight for they knew that the swans were as truly strangers to St. Comgal as to the rest of them but the swans had guessed in some way that this was a man who loved all animals and that is why they were not afraid but loved him as soon as they saw him but this next is the stranger story mice are harder even than swans for most people to get acquainted with but Comgal had also made the mice his friends as you shall see there came a time of famine in Ireland and there was not food enough to go around as has often happened there from the earliest days until even now Comgal and his household at Bangor were very hungry but what made it hardest to bear was that they knew where there was plenty of food close by if only they could get it For Crode was a great prince who lived in the neighborhood and Crode had barns and storehouses full of grain which could be made into bread but he was a selfish, stingy man and would not give away or even sell his stores for he would rather see the people starve now Crode had a wicked old mother living in his palace who was even more cruel than himself her name was Lush and Lush means in Irish the mouse and it was her name which put an idea in the Comgal's head after sending all sorts of messengers to beg Crode to give them some of his grain after trying all sorts of ways to make him sell it Comgal went himself to the prince's palace to see what he could do he carried with him a beautiful silver goblet which had been given him by someone as a present and it was worth many bushels of grain Comgal strode into the prince's hall and stood before Crode holding out the goblet in his hand and he said here oh prince is a valuable thing we are starving in the monastery and silver we cannot eat give me in my monks some of your golden grain and I will exchange for it the silver cup be merciful O Crode and hear me but the chief only laughed and said mockingly not so you keep your silver goblet and I will keep my golden grain your beggardly pupil shall not eat of my stores I want all every grain for my old mouse and by that word he meant his mother who had wrinkled gray old loosh whose name meant the mouse for she was the most miserably wicked old woman in the world and she had made him promise not to give up any of the grain then Comgal was very angry because he saw that the prince meant to see the people starve very well he said fixing his eyes sternly upon Crode as you have said so shall it be the mouse shall have your grain and drawing his robe about him he strode home with the useless silver goblet as I have said the mice were Comgal's friends he had only to call them and explain what the hard-hearted prince had done he had only to tell the mice what he wished them to do and the matter was settled the word spread through the kingdom of the mice carried by the quickest messenger with the shortest tail all the mice became enemies of Crode then there were many mice in Bangor in those days that very night when everyone was asleep out of every hole and corner came peeping little pointed noses and quivering whiskers and a great procession of long-tailed tiny things formed into line and crept along and along up the hill and up the walls and into the barns of Crode a legion of mice thousands upon thousands of them in a gray uniformed army pounced upon the prince's precious grain and ate up every kernel so the next morning when Crode went to his barns he found them empty there was not so much as a single yellow dot of grain left anywhere but out of every crack and crevice peeped a pair of twinkling black eyes which watched him saucily then Crode began to bellow and roar with anger and the wicked old woman Lush, his mother, came hobbling in to see what was the matter but when the mice saw her they gave a chorus of fierce squeaks as if crying mouse, mouse, mouse then Crode remembered what Kamgal had said that the mouse should have his grain after all and he guessed what the saint had meant and knew that Kamgal had taken this way to punish a selfish and cruel man End of Chapter 13 Chapter 14 of the Book of Saints and Friendly Beasts This is a LibriVox recording All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org The book of Saints and Friendly Beasts by Abby Farewell-Brown Chapter 14 The Wonders of Saint Barak The life of Saint Barak was full of wonders from the very first from when he was a boy at home in the house of his father Nimnald he had a vision an angel appeared to him and beckoned him to follow So he went and the angel led him straight to the monastery at Glendalo where Holy Saint Kumbjinn lived with his friend the White Dough and taught boys to be wise and Barak joined the other boys to be taught all that Saint Kumbjinn knew and to learn other things beside Ireland was a wild country in those days for this was only 600 years after Christ's birth and the little towns had hardly begun to grow The huts which men had made in the wilderness calling them houses and schools and churches were not close together but far, far apart Wild beasts prowled everywhere and there were no policemen Close by the monastery were the broad green meadows where the monks pastured the herds of cows which gave them milk From the windows of his cell the young monk loved to watch the cows and their calves browsing the juicy grass and wading in the brooks which ran under the rows of willows He especially loved Belle the sleekest, most beautiful of them all a proud mother cow who had a new little red calf One day as he was watching Belle and her baby who had strayed a little distance from the rest of the herd he saw something which frightened him A great grey wolf was hiding in the shadow of a hedge creeping nearer and nearer to the peaceful pair but Belle did not guess that an enemy was there Farak hurried down the turd stair and out of the gate hardly pausing to tell the brother porter whither he was going for he knew there was no time to lose He ran to the meadow and pushed through the blooming hedge of Hawthorne but alas he had come too late The great gaunt wolf who was very hungry had pounced upon the little red calf and had eaten it up The wolf ran lowing about the pasture as if seeking for her little one but the wolf was slinking out of sight When Barak saw what had been done at first he was very angry with the wolf for he loved Belle dearly and it troubled him to see her sad He thought how lonely the poor cow would be without her calf and when she came pitifully lowing up to him as if asking him to help her the tears stood in his kind eyes But then he thought how hungry the wolf must have been Poor thing, how thin and hollow he had looked Perhaps he was not so much to blame after all Probably he had never been taught any better And then a strange idea came to Barak He was a wonderful man and he must have had great power over animals for he called to the wolf who was already some distance away He called loudly and in a stern voice you will hardly believe it but the wolf came slinking back frightened and whining like a naughty puppy and crouched at Barak's feet Then the saint spoke kindly to the wolf no longer treating him like a murderer and a thief He called the cow also and taking her by the horns led her gently to the wolf soothing her so that she was not afraid of the great grey beast And Barak said to the cow See mother Belle this shall be your child now in place of the little one which is gone He will be a kind and gentle son to you I promise And to the wolf he said Here wolf is the mother whom you need to make you gentle and good You shall be kind to her and make her forget the wrong you have done by being a loving and dutiful son ever doing her bidding So after that Barak wolf dwelt peacefully together in the meadows of the monastery and he shielded her from danger and like a huge watchdog kept away the other wild beast from the herd After that came a winter when for weeks the ground was white with snow and the laughing mouths of the brooks were sealed with ice Duke Coleman's little son had been sent to school at the monastery and the boy was very ill He was hot and thirsty and his throat was parched with fever So little Edward begged for juicy apples and for salad of fresh sorrel leaves things which were not to be found in all the land in the dead of winter But Cumdyn the Abbott trusted in the power of his young friend who could tame wolves Go forth, my son he said to Barak Take my staff and bring what the boy needs Then Barak retired to his cell and prayed that he might be blessed to save the dear child's life After that, with faith and courage he went out into the white meadows using the Abbott's staff to help him over the great drifts of snow He came to the row of willows by the frozen brook where the cows had loved to wade and here he paused Lifting the staff he touched the bare brown branches of the willow on which the snow clung like shreds of cotton wool instantly the snow began to melt as it does before the sun in April The stiff brown twigs turned green and became tender and full of life Then gray willow buds put forth woolly little pussy willows which seemed fairly bursting like fat round kittens They grew bigger and bigger rounder and rounder till at last they really did burst and plumped great rosy cheek apples into the lap of the saint who held up the skirt of his gray gown to catch them as they fell Low, under the trees meanwhile the snow drifts had melted and little green leaves were poking up through the frozen ground and brook gathered there a great bunch of juicy tart sorrel which makes such good salad Then with his arms full well with this and his apples and the blessed staff he floundered back through the snow drifts to the monastery They received him eagerly and there was great rejoicing Little Edward was revived by the out of season deities thus miraculously provided for him and soon became quite well again It was many years after this again a hard and cruel winter when Saint Barak made another wonder come to pass Meantime he had grown older and even wiser He had himself been made abbot and had built a monastery of his own in a lonely place far away from Glendalo but he had an enemy There was a rich man who wanted the land which Barak had chosen and who was so envious that he tried to do him spite in every way he could He even sought to destroy the monastery Then Barak appealed to the king for protection and both men were summoned to the court The rich man went in a chariot splendid in his fine robes of fur with a gold chain about his neck and the guards and hurried to let down the portacolas for him and with low bowels bade him enter But when Saint Barak came he wore only his grey monks robe all torn and tattered He was shivering with cold and weak from having walked so far So I thought him a mere beggar and would not let him in As he stood outside the gate friendless and alone some rude boys who had gathered there began to laugh and jeer at his bare sandal feet Ice in his robe through which the cold winds blew They made snowballs and rushed upon him in a crowd like the cowards they were pelting the poor man most cruelly But suddenly what do you think Their arms stiffened as they raised them to throw the balls Their legs stuck fast in the snow The grins froze on their faces and they were almost choked by the shouts which turned to ice in their throats What had happened Well Saint Barak had merely breathed upon them and they were as if turned into ice so they could not stir How cold they were Then the saint made ready to warm himself A drifted snow had fallen from the palace gate when it opened to letting the rich men And going up to this he blew upon it He blew a warm breath this time Instantly the whole heap burst into flame and snapped and crackled like the fire in the chimney place of the dining hall at home In front of this merry blaze the good saint stood warming his hands and thawing out his poor frozen feet But the group of boys did like statues of snow so cold so cold but unable to come nearer to the fire so frightened so frightened so unable to run away This is what the kings guard saw when terrified by the crackling of the fire and the great light which shown through the chinks of the gate that came to see what it all meant They ran to the king and told him of the strange sight and he himself with a crowd of courtiers came out to look When he saw the Reagan beggar who had done all this he was filled with amazement This must be a holy man and powerful so he invited Barak into the palace hall and there listened to his story Now when all was done the rich man was bundled away in disgrace for daring to meddle with the good works of so wonderful a saint But Barak was honored and admired Before he went back to his monastery that begged him to restore the naughty boys to life in motion Now Barak can only want to teach him a lesson not to punish them too severely for he was too kindhearted to injure any living creature so going out into the courtyard he blew upon the snow figures and once more they became live boys You can imagine how glad they were when they found they were able to move their legs and arms again Now Barak went back to his monastery in one of the king's chariots with a robe of fur and a gold chain about his neck and you may be sure he carried with him many other gifts and precious things from the king who never thereafter suffered him to be troubled in his far off retreat End of Chapter 14 Chapter 15 of The Book of Saints and a Friendly Beast This is a LibriVox recording All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org Angelique Campbell, April 2019 The Book of Saints and Friendly Beasts by Abby Farwell Brown St. Priska, the Child Martyr St. Priska's name has always been dearly loved especially in England January 18th is the day which is sacred to her and she lived over 1700 years ago She is one of the few Child Martyrs whose names have come down to us from those early days although many children who suffered and were strong and who at last gave their lives to prove their faith St. Priska was a little Roman girl whose parents were Christians of a noble family Claudius was the emperor at that time and though during his reign the Christians were not persecuted in such numbers as they had been before that, still many cruel things were done here and there and it was a dangerous thing to be a Christian It was in the evil times when one did not always dare to say what he really thought nor publicly to worship as he believed was right Many of the Christians were not ashamed to conceal their real belief from the heathen Romans who were everywhere seeking with hatred for the followers of Christ to torture and slay them Priska's father and mother had managed to keep their secret and were not suspected of being Christians They probably went to church in the secret chapels which the Christians found on the ground under the city and these dark limy catacombs as they were called the Christians held services directly under the feet of the cruel Romans who were passing overhead without suspecting what was going on so near to them but Priska scorned to use any caution small and defenseless though she was she did not fear to tell everyone what she believed and whose cross she followed so she soon became known Christian maiden and there were people in the city cruel enough and wicked enough to hate even a little child Christian and to wish her evil These persons reported to the emperor's officers her rave words of faith and told them how she would not sacrifice to the Roman gods as the other children did so very soon she was seized by the guards and brought before the emperor Claudia's looked at the little maiden surprised to find her so young and he thought oh I shall easily make the small Christian change her mind and obey me and he bade his men take her to the temple of Apollo and make her offer incense to the beautiful god of the silver bow so they carried her to the top of the Palantine one of the seven hills on which Rome was built they first passed under a great marble arch and came into a fair courtyard surrounded by 52 marble pillars in the center of this space stood the temple of Apollo the most magnificent building in all Rome with its ivory gates and wonderful groups of statues its inlaid marble floors and altars wreathed with flowers its golden tripods breathing incense its lamps and beautiful silver vases it was a very different place from the bare dark caverns in which the Christians worshiped in front of the temple was a group of four oxen made of bronze and in the center of this group burned a fire upon a golden tripod this was the altar to Apollo the sun god whose enormous golden statue and his four horse chariot stood over the door of the temple just above he was the likeness of a beautiful youth with a wreath obey upon his head carrying a bow in his hand with which Apollo was believed to shoot the sunbeams down upon the earth they thrust incense into Priska's hand and bade her throw a few cranes into the fire in honor of the beautiful god of the sun it seemed a very simple thing to do to save her life just to scatter a handful of dark powder on the flames Priska loved the dearest son as well as anyone but she knew it was foolish to believe that he was a god and a wicket to worship his statue in place of the great god who made the sun and everything else so Priska refused to burn the incense then the emperor was very angry and bade the soldiers whip her until she obeyed his command but they could not make her yield by cruelty even the hard-hearted Romans who had come to look on admired her bravery and wept to see her so cruelly treated and the men cried shame, shame to torch our little child and then a beautiful thing happened for Priska appeared dressed in a robe of yellow sunshine a wonderful light shown all about her and she seemed herself a little star giving out light so brightly did her brave spirit shine among those cruel men it seemed as if no child could bear all this suffering without yielding and the emperor hoped she would give in for he did not want to have her killed but Priska was firm and would not make the sacrifice the emperor was surprised to find a child so brave he ordered them to drag her away to prison and to keep her there for many days here she was most unhappy cold and lonely and hungry often what happened next but her heart was always brave and she was not afraid after a long time one morning the guard came for little Priska they let her forth into the dear sunshine and glad she was to see it and the blue sky once more but it was only for a short time that they let her enjoy even this little pleasure but they brought her to the amtotheater a great open place like the circus with tears upon tears of seats all about and crowds of faces looking down into the center where she was Priska knew what this meant but she had often heard how the Christians were put into the arena to be torn in pieces by wild beasts and kneeling down on the sand she made a little prayer not that she might be saved from the brave beast but that she might have courage to show her Christian bravery and teach a lesson to these fierce men and women who were looking on then the keeper opened the gate at door of a den at the end of the arena and out stalked a great yellow lion with a dreadful roar he rushed into the center of the circle and stood there lashing his tail and flashing his big yellow eyes all about the place then suddenly he spied the little girl standing quietly at one side with her hands clasped in front of her looking at him without fear and the great beast strode gently on her on his padded paws he bent his head and licked her little bare feet and then he crouched down by her side as a Saint Bernard dog might place himself to guard his little mistress and this is why the old pictures of Saint Priska represent her with a lion by her side there fell a great silence on the tinted place the emperor and all the people sat perfectly still wondering at this strange sight and admiring the courage of the child for she had reached out her hand and was stroking the yellow head of the lion laying with his mane she bent her head and no one heard her whisper into his ear my good friend you will not hurt me I know the Lord has closed your mouth just as he did the melds of the lions and to whose dandana was thrown by wicked men these cruel men will put me to death but you are kinder than they and the lion looked up on her face as though he understood and growled softly he was quite gentle with her but when the keeper came towards them he roared and bristled and showed his great teeth so that for a long time no one dared to come near but even the lion could not save her from the death of which she had no wish to shun at last they captured him and took him away the emperor's heart was softened by Priska's bravery and he wished to give her one more chance to save her life they shut her up for many days in the heathen temple and tried in every way to make her sacrifice to the gods and give up christianity they coaxed her and made her find promises they threatened and punished her but still priska stood firm although she was now very worn and tired and ill because she had suffered so much so when she had born it all patiently and bravely she was able to make a little christian turn back again into a little heathen they led her away down the road which leads south from the palatine hill to the place of execution this was just outside the ostium gate an archway in the great wall which surrounded Rome through which the road led to the town of ostium and to the sea just outside this gate to show that they were no longer worthy of being romans and living within its walls criminals were executed and here many christian martyrs lost to their lives priska was one of these for here she was beheaded until the very end she neither cried nor screamed nor was in any way afraid and so she became saint priska a little martyr then another strange thing befell when she died a great eagle appeared in the sky hovering over saint priska's body far up in the air the romans ventured near her the eagle swooped down upon them with dreadful cries and flapping of his wings and his round grey eyes looked so fierce and his claws so long and sharp that no one dared to touch her for fear of the bird saint priska had found another protector in cruel Rome and this is why many of the old pictures of saint priska's martyrdom show a great eagle hovering over her the creature guarded her body night and day driving everyone away until the christians who had been waiting for the chance to venture out came secretly one night and carried her away they buried her where the romans could not find her in their little secret cemetery in the catacombs this is how saint priska lived and died 270 years after christ's birth but i wish we knew what became of the noble lion and the devoted eagle chapter 15 chapter 16 of the book of saints and friendly beasts this is a libervox recording all libervox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit libervox.org recording by john brandon the book of saints and friendly beasts by abbey farwell brown chapter 16 the fish who helped saint godwall the welch coast is famous for its beautiful scenery and its terrible storms people who see it in the summertime think only of the beautiful scenery but if they should happen to pass that way in mid winter they would be very apt to meet a non-pleasant reminder of the terrible storms saint godwall was born a welchman and he should have known all this perhaps he did know but chose to run into danger just because it was dangerous as so many saints love to do in those days when it was thought no virtue to take care of one's life at all events it was summer when, with one friend godwall moved to his new home a tiny island off the coast of wales which at that time was very beautiful the first thing they did was to set about finding a place to live in the island was one of those high mountains poking up out of the sea with green grass on top like colored frosting to a cake and grey rocks below all hollowed out into deep caves and crannies as if mice had been nibbling at the cake these caves are just the sort of places which smugglers and pirates choose to hide in with their treasures for no one would think of hunting for anyone there and godwall wanted to be left alone with his pupil so he thought there was no reason why a bad man's hiding place should not make a good saint's retreat so they chose the largest and deepest of all the caves and there they put their books and their beds and their little furniture and set up housekeeping their home was one of those caves into which the sea rushes a little way and then suddenly backs out again as if it had changed its mind this time but would call again godwall and his pupil love to lie in their cave just beyond the reach of the waves and watch them dash laughingly up on the rocks then roar and gurgle and pretend in anger and creep away out into the blue base and beyond in summer their daily games with the sea were great fun and godwall was very happy they spent some lovely months alone with the waves and the rocks and the seabirds which now and then fluttered screaming into the dark cave and then again dashed bashfully out when they found that they had come uninvited into a stranger's home it was all very nice and peaceful and pretty in the summertime just as tourists find it to this day but oh what a change when old winter came roaring down over the waves from the north in his chariot of ice drawn by fierce winds and angry storm clouds then the temper of the sea was changed it grew cruel and hungry it left off its kindly game with the lonely dwellers on the island and seemed instead to have become their enemy it tried to seize and swallow them in its cruel jaws one morning there came a terrible storm in the far end of the cave godwall and the other were nearly swept away by a huge wave which rushed into devour them no longer content with pausing on the threshold the sea swept through their whole house dashing away their little store of books and furniture a most unneighborly thing to do they tried to drag the two men from the corner where they clung to the rough rock choked and gasping they escaped this time while the sea drew back for another plunge but they did not wait for this for they knew it would mean their death drenched as they were the salt spray they scrambled out of the cave and began to climb the slippery seaweed to the rocks above it was a hard and dangerous ascent for the sea leaped after them to pull them back snarling angrily at their heels like a fierce beast maddened by their escape but it could not quite seize them and at last they reached the top of the cliff where they were safe for the time but what were they to do now? there were no houses on the island no place to go to keep warm yet they could not live out in the open air to freeze in the snow and cold it was no longer possible to live in the cave if the sea was to wash through it like this but if openly there were some barrier to keep out the stormy waves they could still live in their beloved cave St. Godwall fell upon his knees and prayed for help prayed for some defense against the winter waves and what do you think happened? the dwellers in the sea were kinder than the sea itself the little fish who lived safely in the angriest waves were sorry for the big men who were so powerless in the face of this danger from the sea caves far under the island's foot from the beds of seaweed and the groves of coral from the sandy bottom of the ocean fathoms deep below the fish came swimming in great shoals about Godwall's island and each one bore in his mouth a grain of sand they swam into the shallow water just outside the cave where Godwall had lived and one by one missed their burdens on the sandy bottom one by one they paused to see that it was well done then swiftly swam away to return as soon as might be with another grain of sand all day long a procession of fish like people in line at a ticket office moved steadily up to the shallows and back again so by night a little bar of sand had begun to grow gradually before the entrance to the cave now Saint Godwall and his pupil were shivering on the top of the cliff and looking off to sea when the pupil caught his master's arm what is that down there in the water he said pointing to a little brown spot peering above the waves I know not answered the saint what seems it to be brother I've been watching it to the other and I think it grows look it is even now higher than when first you looked is it not so and sure enough Godwall saw that ever so little at a time the brown patch was growing and spreading from right to left grain by grain the sandbar rose higher and higher till it thrust bravely above the blueness a solid wall extending for some distance through the water in front of the cave against this new breakwater the surf roared and foamed and terrible rage but it could not pass it could no longer swoop down into the cavern as it had done before the lord has given us a defense said Godwall the thankful heart and then his eye caught sight of a great blue fish swimming back into the deep sea it is the fish who have built us the wall he cried blessed me the fish who have this day helped us in our need for the fish had piled up a stout and lasting barrier between saint Godwall and the angry sea and thenceforth he could live in his cave safely during both summer and winter End of Chapter 16 Recording by John Brandon All in the forest far away where no one ever came there dwelt a good man old and gray Saint Giles the hermit's name his forest home a rocky cave beneath an aspen tree and for his friend saint Giles did have a deer who wandered free a gentle red and bottled deer who made her home close by who at his call came without fear forgetting to be shy sure never all in lovely France was there a deer so tame ah but to see her start in France when he would call her name she gave him milk his simple fare and browsed upon the green ah such a gentle loving pair I wish was never seen and he was happy in his cell and joyous beneath his trees content with woodland beasts his only neighbors these the wood was dark the wood was grim and never till one day had human voices troubled him or world folk passed that way but on a dewy springtime mourn when April climbed the hill there came the wind of silver horn hallows and whistle shrill the galloping of horses feet the bloody bay of hounds broke through the forest silent sweet and echoed deadly sounds agile sat in his lonely cell when as the route drew nigh but at the noise his kind heart fell and sorrow dimmed his eye he loved not men who hunt to kill loved not the rich and grand for in those days the pagan still held lordship in the land but scarcely had he reached the door and seized his staff of oak when like a billow with a roar the chase upon him broke with one last hope of deer escape into the open space bounded a light and graceful shape the quarry of the chase all flecked with foam all quivering with weariness and fear crouched at his feet the hunted thing his gentle friend the deer behind her made the pack of hounds their cruel teeth gleamed white nearing with eager leaps and bounds he turned sick at the sight St. Giles looked down upon the deer St. Giles looked up again he saw the danger drawing near the death with all his pain he laid his hand upon her head the soft head of his friend and shall I let thee die? he said and watch thy hapless end he stooped and gently murmured nay, stroking her mottled side he stepped before her where she lay they slay me first he cried her frightened eyes looked up at him her little girl her frightened eyes looked up at him her little heart beat high she trembled sore in every limb the bushes parted nay hello, hello! the huntsman cried as through the hedge they burst an archer all in green as spied the crouching quarry first swift as the thought his arrow flew St. Giles threw out his arm alack! the aim was all too true St. Giles must bear the harm the arrow pierced too well too well all in that mournful wood St. Giles upon the green's word fell and died it with his blood he fell but falling laid his hand upon the trembling deer my life for hers just understand he cried so all could hear now as upon the green he lay all in a deathly swooned the king dashed up with courteous gay and looked upon his wound the king rode up and oh! he cried whom find we in our wood who spares the deer with mottled hide who sheds an old man's blood the king looked down with ruthless eye when all the thing was told alack! he cried he must not die so kind a man and bold bear me the saint into his cave who falls to save his friend deserves for leech his king to have I his pallet will tend they spared to him the sorbot deer and in that lowly cell for many weary days and drear the king came there to dwell the king who was a godless man a pagan heart and soul played nurse until the wound began to heal and Giles was whole but in the little forest cave the king learned many things known to the meanest Christian slave but secrets from the kings for good St. Giles had won his heart by his brave deed and bold and ere the great king did depart his Christian faith he told and while the red deer stood beside the king gave Giles his word that ere a Christian he would bide and keep what he had heard and so the monarch rode away and left the two alone St. Giles a happy man that day the good deer still his own safe from the eager hunting horse the great king safe from the eager hunting horse the saint would keep his friend protected by the king's own word thence forth until the end for a molested in his cell careless of everything Giles with his friendly deer could dwell liege to a Christian king End of Chapter 17 Chapter 18 of the Book of Saints and Friendly Beasts This is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain For more information all to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Melissa Green The Book of Saints and Friendly Beasts by Abby Farwell-Brown The Wolf Mother of St. Elb This is the story of a poor little Irish baby whose cruel father and mother did not care anything about him but because they could not sell him nor give him away they had to lose him they wrapped him in a piece of cloth and took him up on the mountain side and there they left him lying all alone on a bush of heather Now an old mother wolf was out taking her evening walk on the mountain after tending her babies in the den all day and just as she was passing the heather bush she heard a faint, funny little cry she pricked up her pointed ears and said what's that? and lo and behold to sniff out the mystery with her keen nose it led her straight to the spot where the little pink baby lay crying with cold and hunger The heart of the kind mother wolf was touched for she thought of her own little ones at home and how sad it would be to see them so helpless and lonely and forgotten so she picked the baby up in her mouth carefully and ran home with him to her den in the rocks at the foot of the mountain Here the little one whose name was Elb lived with the baby wolves sharing their breakfast and dinner and supper playing and quarrelling and growing up with them The wolf mother took good care of him and saw that he had the best of everything for she loved him dearly indeed and Elb grew stronger and stronger taller and taller hansmer and hansmer every day living his happy life in the wild woods of Green Ireland Now one day a year or two after this a hunter came riding over the mountain on his way home from the chase and he happened to pass near the cave where Elb and the wolves lived As he was riding along under the trees he saw a little white creature run across the path in front of him At first he thought it was a rabbit but it was too big for a rabbit and besides it did not hop The hunter jumped down from his horse and ran after the funny animal to find out what it was His long leg soon overtook it and it was hiding and imagine the hunter's surprise when he found that it had neither fur nor horns nor four feet nor a tail but that it was a beautiful child who could not stand upright and whose little bear body ran on all fours like a baby wolf It was little Elb, the wolf mother's pet who had grown so fast that he was almost able to take care of himself but he was not quite able the hunter thought and he said to himself to his kind wife that she might take care of him So he caught Elb up in his arms kicking and squealing and biting like the wild little animal he was and wrapped him in a corner of his great cloak Then he jumped on his horse with a chirp and galloped away out of the woods towards his village But Elb did not want to leave his forest home the wolf den and his little wolf brothers especially he did not want to leave his dear foster mother so he screamed and struggled to get away from the big hunter and he called to the wolves in their own language to come and help him Then out of the forest came bounding the great mother wolf with her four children now grown to be nearly as big as herself She chased after the fleeting horse and snapped at the loose end of the huntsman's cloak howling with grief and anger but she could not catch the thief nor get back her adopted son the little smooth-skinned foundling so after following them for miles the five wolves gradually dropped further and further behind and at last as he stretched out his little arms to them over the hunter's velvet shoulder Elb saw them stop in the road panting with one last howl of farewell They had given up the hopeless chase and with their tails between their legs and their heads drooping low they slunk back to their lonely den where they would never see their little boy It was a sad day for good wolf mother But the hunter carried little Elb home with him on the horse's back and he found a new mother there to receive him Elb never knew who his first mother was but she must have been a bad cruel woman His second mother was the kind wolf and this one the third was a beautiful princess For the hunter who had found the child was a prince and he lived in a grand castle by a lake near Tiberary with hundreds of servants and horses and dogs and little pages for Elb to play with and here he lived and was very happy and here he learned all the things which in those days made a little boy grow up into a wise and great man He grew up so wise and great that he was made a bishop and had a palace of his own in the town of Emily People came to see him far and near who made him presents and asked him questions and ate his dinners But though he had grown so great and famous Elb had never forgotten his second mother the good wolf nor his four-footed brothers in their coats of grey fur and sometimes when his visitors were stupid and stayed a long time or when they asked too many questions or when they made him presents which he did not like Elb longed to be back in the forests with the good beasts for they had much more sense though they had never kissed the Blaeone stone which makes one talk good Irish A great many years afterwards there was one day a huge hunt in Emily all the lords for miles around were out chasing the wild beasts and among them was the Prince Elb's foster-father but the bishop himself was not with them he did not see any sport in killing poor creatures It was almost night and the people of Emily were out watching for the hunters to return The bishop was coming down the village street on his way from church when the sound of horns came of the hills close by and he knew that Chase was nearing home Louder and louder came the tan-tara-tara of the horns and then he could hear the gallopy thud of the horses hooves and the yelp of the hounds but suddenly the bishop's heart stood still Among all the other noises of the chase he heard a sound which made him think think think It was the long-drawn howl of a wolf a sad howl a fear and weariness and pain It spoke a language which he had almost forgotten but hardly had he time to think again and to remember before down the village street came a great gond figure flying in long leaps from the foremost dogs who were snapping at her heels It was Elb's wolf mother He recognized her as soon as he saw her green eyes and the patch of white on her right foreleg He recognized him too how I cannot say for he had changed greatly since she last saw him a naked little sun-browned boy but at any rate in his fine robes of purple and linen and rich lace with the mitre on his head and the crozier in his hand the wolf mother knew her dear son With a cry of joy she bound it up to him and laid her head on his breast as if she knew he would protect her from the growling dogs and the fierce-eyed hunters and the good bishop was true to her for he drew his beautiful velvet cloak about her tired panting body and laid his hand lovingly on her head Then in the other he held up his crook warningly to keep back the ferocious dogs I will protect the old mother he said tenderly when I was little and young and feeble thou didst nourish and cherish and protect me and now that thou art old and gray and weak shall I not render the same love and care to thee none shall injure thee then the hunters came tearing up on their foaming horses and stopped short to find what the matter was some of them were angry and wanted even now to kill the poor wolf just as the dogs did who were prowling about snarling with disappointment but Elb would have none of it he forbade them to touch the wolf and he was so powerful and wise and holy that they dared not disobey him but had to be content with seeing their hunt spoiled in their prey taken out of their clutches but before the hunters and their dogs rode away Saint Elb had something more to say to them and he bade all the curious townfolk who had gathered about him and the wolf to listen also he repeated the promise which he had made to the wolf and warned every one thence forth not to hurt her or her children either in the village or in the woods or on the mountain and turning to her once more he said see mother you need not fear they dare not hurt her now you have found your son to protect you come every day with my brothers to my table and you and yours shall share my food as once I so often shared yours and so it was every day after that so long as she lived the old wolf mother brought her full children to the bishop's palace and held at the gate for the porter to let them in and every day he opened it to them and the steward showed the five into the great dining-hall where Elb sat at the head of the table with five places set for the rest of the family and there with her five dear children about her in a happy circle the kind wolf mother sat and ate the good things which the bishop's friends had sent him but the child she loved best was none of those in furry coats and fine whiskers who looked like her it was the blue eyed saint at the top of the table in his robes of purple and white his mother and his brothers and would laugh contentedly put to hand some family we are he would say and it was true End of Chapter 18 Recording by Melissa Green Chapter 19 of the book of saints and friendly beasts This is a LibriVox recording All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Melissa Green The book of saints and friendly beasts by Abbey Farwell Brown Saint Rigoberre's Dinner Saint Rigoberre was hungry he had eaten nothing that morning neither had little Pierre his serving lad who trodded along before him on the road to Rim they were going to visit Wyberre, the deputy governor of Rim to pay him some money which the bishop owed all the money which he had in the world and that is why they had nothing left to buy them a breakfast and why little Pierre gazed into the baker's shop so hungrily and licked his lips as they passed Good Saint Rigoberre did not see the windows of buns and tarts and pasties as they went along for his eyes were bent upon the ground and he was singing hymns over to himself under his breath still he too was very faint Saint Rigoberre was poor he was a good old bishop but the king of France did not love him and had sent him away from the court in the big rich city to live among the poor folk in the country Saint Rigoberre did not mind this very much for he loved the pretty little village of Garencourt where he lived he loved the people who dwelt there too and especially he loved Pierre who had come to his home to be his little page and helper the people of the village meant to be kind and generous but they were mostly stupid folk who saw only what was in front of their noses and they did not guess how very poor their dear bishop was they were poor too and had to be careful of their little bits of money but they all had vegetables and milk and eggs and butter and if everyone had helped a little as they ought for he was always doing kind things for them Saint Rigoberre would not have gone hungry so often it made the bishop sorry to find them so careless but he never complained he would not tell them nor beg them to help him and often even little Pierre did not know how long he fasted or he would give the boy all the supper and keep none himself but he was always cheery and contented he always had a kind word for the people as he passed them on the street and when he went to the big town of Reims nearby he never complained to the governor there about what a poor miserable parish he lived in or how little the people of Garencourt did for their bishop for he liked to believe that they did the best they could and that is why when the two came into Weiberts home Saint Rigoberre he had no money to the governor without a word of his hunger or his faintness and even when he saw the great table laid for dinner and the smoking dishes brought in by a procession of serving men he turned away resolutely and tried not to show how tempting the good things looked and smelled he gathered up the folds of his robe and taking his bishop's staff in his hand rose to go back to Garencourt and his dinnerless house but as they were leaving the hall Pierre trailing out very reluctantly to look Weiberts the governor called them back perhaps he had seen the longing in the eyes of little Pierre as the great haunch of venison was set on the board perhaps he had noticed how pale and hollow Saint Rigoberre's cheeks were and half guessed the cause at all events he said kindly I pray thee stay and dine with us, thou and the boy yonder see the meat is ready and there is room for many more at table but Saint Rigoberre had a service to hold in the church in Garencourt and they had barely time to reach home if they walked briskly besides he was too proud to accept charity and for the sake of his people he feared to let the governor see how very hungry he was nay he answered gently I think thee for thy courtesy friend Weiber but we may not tarry the time scans us for our dinner before the service in the church at Garencourt and we must hasten or we be late come lad we must be stirring anon tears of disappointment was standing in Pierre's eyes he wanted so much to stay and have some of that good dinner but he never thought of questioning his master's commands the governor pressed them to stay but Rigoberre was firm and passed on to the door Pierre following sulkly behind but just as they reached the door there was a commotion outside in the sound of quacking in men's laughter and there came in a serving man a goose which was flapping his wings and cackling hoarsely in fright oh what have we here said the governor crossly why do you let such a commotion into my whole you fellow please you sir answered the serving man as well as he could with the goose struggling in his arms this goose is a tribute from the widow Rene and she begs your honour to accept him as a poor present a poor present indeed said the governor testily what do I want of the creature we have more fouls now than we know what to do with I wish him not then an idea came into his head and he turned to saint Rigoberre why, reverend sir he said laughing since you will not stay to dine with me I prithee take this fat fellow home with you for dinner and go and call it will be a good riddance for us in sooth saint Rigoberre hesitated but seeing the look of eagerness and Pierre's face he concluded to accept the gift which was a common one enough in those days Grammarcy for your courtesy master Weiber he answered we take your bounty of the fine goose since it seemeth that your tables have space for little more now then Pierre led take up thy prey and look he bite thee not he added as the boy made haste to seize the great struggling bird the goose pecked and squawked and flapped horribly while Pierre was getting his arms about him but finally they were ready to start Pierre going first with the goose he was nearly as big as himself and the bishop following grasping his staff his eyes bent upon the ground Pierre's heart was full of joy he chuckled and laughed and could hardly wait till they should reach home for thinking of the fine dinner at the end of the road but saint Rigoberre had already forgotten the goose he had so many other things to think about this is the way he had taught himself to forget how hungry he was he just thought about something else but all on a sudden Rigoberre was startled by a great cackle and a scream in front of him down the road he looked up just in time to see a big white thing sailing away into the sky and Pierre hopping up and down in the roads screaming and crying the bishop overtook the little fellow quickly lad lad hast thou lost thy goose he asked gently oh father sobbed to the boy oh nice dinner your dinner master the wicked goose has flown away oh what a careless boy I am to let him escape me so and he sat down on a stone and cried as if his heart would break nay nay the good bishop said patting him on the head soothingly perhaps the poor goose did not want to be roasted Pierre can you blame him for seeking his liberty instead I find no fault with him but I am sorry for thy dinner lad we must try to get something else cheer up Pierre let the white goose go all will yet be well lad he made Pierre get up still crying bitterly and on they trudged again along the dusty road but this time there was no dinner for them to look forward to and the way seemed very long Pierre dragged his feet heavily and it seemed as if he could not get another step with that emptiness in his stomach and the ache in his head but again Saint Rigober began to hum his hymn softly under his breath keeping time to the beat of his aged feet on the dusty road the loss of his dinner seemed to trouble him little perhaps he was secretly glad that the poor goose had escaped for he was very tender hearted and loved not to have creatures killed even for food they had gone quite a little distance and Rigober began to sing louder and louder as they neared his church when suddenly there came a strange sound in the air over his head and then with a great fluttering a big white goose came circling down Rigober's feet the good saint stopped short and surprised and Pierre turning about could hardly believe his eyes but sure enough there was the very same goose looking up into Saint Rigober's face and cackling as if trying to tell him something I didn't mean to run away he seemed to say I didn't know you were hungry holy man and that I was taking away your dinner sing on and I will fill you home Pierre turned and ran back to the goose and would have seized him by the neck so he could not get away again but Saint Rigober held up his finger warningly and the boys stood still do not touch him Pierre said the bishop earnestly I do not think he will run away let us see and sure enough when they started on once more Saint Rigober still singing softly Pierre who kept glancing back saw the goose waddling slowly at his master's heels so the queer little procession came into Gerncourt and everyone stopped along the streets with open mouths wondering to see them pass at last they reached the bishop's house and there Rigober ceased his singing and turning to the goose stroked his feathers gently and said good friend thou hast been faithful thou shall be rewarded I ruffle up thy feathers good goose for they shall never be plucked from thee nor shall thou be cooked for food thou art my friend from today no pen shall hold thee but thou shalt follow me as thou wilt and the saint kept his promise for after that the goose lived with him in happiness and peace they would take long walks together in the fields about Gerncourt they made visits to the stick and the sorrowful indeed wherever Saint Rigober went the goose followed close at his heels like a dog even when Rigober went again to see the governor of Reims the goose waddled all the way there and back along the crooked road he had gone that first time in little Pierre's arms and how the governor did laugh as he stood in his door and watched the strange pair disappear down the road he could not have been very hungry after all the governor thought or I should never have seen that goose again which shows how little even a governor knows about some things more than this whenever Rigober went to hold service in his little church the goose escorted him there also but he knew better than to go inside he would wait by the porch preening his feathers in the sunshine and snapping bugs in the grass of the churchyard until his dear master came out and then he would escort him back home again he was a very well-mannered goose but dear me all this time I have left poor little Pierre standing with a quivering chin outside the bishop's door hopeless of a dinner but it all came right just as the bishop had said it would I must tell you about that for when Rigober returned from church that day feeling very faint and hungry indeed after the long walk and the excitement of the goose half Pierre came running out to meet him with a smiling face oh father father he cried we are to have a dinner after all come quick I'm so hungry I cannot wait the village folk have heard about the pious goose who came back to be your dinner and how you would not eat him and so they have sent us a basket of good things instead and they promised that never again anything to eat themselves shall we be hungry any more oh father I'm so glad we did not eat the goose and good saint Rigober laid his hand on Pierre's head and said dear lad you will never be sorry for showing kindness to a friendly bird or beast then the goose came quacking up to them and they all three went into the house together to eat their good good dinner end of chapter 19 recording by Melissa Green