The Hidden Wall
Queen Elizabeth the I was in fear of her life. Severe measures were being put in place to protect her from the Catholic vigilantes, who wanted her reign to end.
On a surprisingly cold October day, in 1559, the soaked and battered body of Father Damien could be seen hanging from the door of Gray’s Inn. The humble but sophisticated and highly regarded publican, Nicholas Hiding knew that the location of this lynching this was not a mere coincidence; for his sympathies lay in support of more religious freedom.
In honour of Father Damien’s courage, although possibly reckless and over-zealous courage, Mr. Hiding decided to bury the symbolic corpse in his residings.
The modest monument was ingeniously concealed. Mr. Hiding’s friend from Bootle, Irving Manoot, was amazed at the demiurgic placing of this tribute.
“This is truly brilliant Nicky… do you realize what this symbolizes?”
Nicholas shook his head. He had no idea.
“Just think. Our comrades of fugivity could hide well in such a place. Who could possibly find a human being in a labyrinth such as this?”
Mr. Manoot’s observance came just in time, as the failed “Gunpowder Plot”, a failed assassination attempt against Elizabeth I by a group of provincial English Catholics led by Robertson Smith, put the Queen’s forces at high alert. They had declared war on Catholic sympathizers.
So began a new era of construction. Not particularly monumental in scale, but certainly mammoth in its passionate application.
The newly infamous “Priest Holes” were found in cunningly concealed in walls, under floors, behind wainscoting and other obscure locations. There were miniature apartments and chapels between walls or in attics, artfully contrived, where a Priest could reside with his vestments, sacred vessels and altar furniture. Even fireplaces became an adroit location for the smallest of veilances. One of Nicholas’ proudest accomplishments was his profoundly tiny cubicle, extending from a tiny water-closet, in St. Anthony Castle, Cambridge.
After the “Rising of the North”, an unsuccessful attempt by Catholic nobles from Northern England to depose Queen Elizabeth I of England and replace her with Mary, Queen of Scots, things got more hostile.
"Priest hunters" were ordered to collect information and locate any priests. An Act was passed prohibiting a member of the Roman Catholic Church from celebrating the rites of his faith on pain of forfeiture for the first offense, a year's imprisonment for the second, and imprisonment for life for the third. All those who refused to take the Oath of Supremacy were called "Recusants" and were guilty of high treason.
And, “God” forbid, if any Papist was found converting an Anglican, both parties would suffer death for high treason.
Hiding established a reputation as the one person to consult if a Priest was to be guided to safety along subterranean passages and through a hundred windings, to be hidden in virtually impenetrable recesses.
Hiding was known to have said, “The problem of which I most often introduced myself, was finding my way back to civilization after completing the terminus of refuge.
When discussing his projects with a friend, he wittingly surmised, “If I become famous for this, then I have failed, for I will not have succeeded in masquerading my occupation.” He was once almost imprisoned when a rumor of financial transaction had taken place between he and a client. After that, he was careful, realizing that even a handshake, could be his demise.
Search-parties would bring with them skilled carpenters and masons and try every possible simpatico.Elaborate systems of measurement and the latest in sounding equipment would be utilized as well as the physical tearing down of paneling and pulling up of floors. In a detective-like ploy, the pursuants would pretend to leave to see if the clergyman would attempt an escape. Most of this hunted prey would be starving, sickly and weak and almost fearing to breathe. It was not uncommon for a shortage of oxygen to bring the misadventure to a tragic end.
On such an excursion by the Queen’s army of inquest, Nicholas was found having a stout with his friend, looking dreggy, covered with suet and mortar. There was no sign on the premises of this little home on Castle End Road in Twyford, of renovation.
He was directly asked, “Of where can the site be found, of your labours?”
Nicholas quickly looked questioningly at his friend Alton. The hesitation was enough. No need for a trial.
Mr. Hiding was taken to the Tower of London and tortured to death on the rack.
He was canonized as a martyr by Pope Leo XIII on July 1, year 1900.
DeaBeePea 10-9-16
Thank you Becky...who is still sixteen in many ways. They were confusing times, dominated by insecurities and a desire for "coolness". But...I guess I was happy...I did have Head skis...was there more than that? February 19, 1969 Another Wednesday. School. Urban Geography report due. I thought to myself. "Lot's of good pictures. But what about S.S.F. That was Mr. Youngman's code for site, situation and function. My brother taught Geography too. He did not agree with that premise for studying cities. Oh, well, do as the teacher says...even though he is a bit of a twit." Mario Puzo's The Godfatheer lay on my end table. I always have trouble remembering what I read the night before. I asked myself, "Where did I leave off?" I took a quick look (left the book open thank goodness). "Oh yes...I reiterated to myself...Sonny just got shot." I didn't feel any different being sixteen. I was immediately struck with a thought. Was I going to be getting anything at breakfast, or would I have to wait till later? I quickly put on my TeeKays and my paisley shirt...the purple one with the long sleeves. My glasses were on the dresser...lightly sprinkled with dandruff, generously donated by the hairbrush an inch away. I wiped the lens with the kleenex (used previously for something) that was crumpled nearby. I couldn't find my Fat Albert's. They weren't in my room. I guess that meant that I took them off at the door yesterday, which was not unusual, but infrequent. I looked my window...freshly fallen snow. I always loved that. It means good skiing for the weekend. I wasn't thinking about going to Moonstone, which was usually on my mind. The reason was simple. It was the Mt. Tremblant weekend coming up in two days. The bus would arrive at my high school at eleven in the evening and drive all night, till our arrival at the wonderful Quebec resort. From last years experience I knew that it would be a marathion. No sleeping on the bus! Tackling that mogul ridden slope, called "Expo", on Saturday morning, with no rest...a true test of endurance! I entered the kitchen...the time...8:26. About average. Maybe a minute or two early. My mother was sitting at the table, a bit unusual. She was usually fussing. I sat down, my bowl of puffed rice already waiting for my spoon. I took a quick sip of the orange juice to my right. "Well Dave, I guess you are sixteen today. Happy birthday," my mother uttered with a pleasant smile. There were three cards surrounding my cereal bowl. "I hope you don't mind me taking them out of the envelopes, I thought you would like you to see them open on the table." Of course I didn't mind. My sister wrote..."I hope your birthday is fab!" That was Jayne. My brothers card was more formalized...a library decor, and a simple Happy Birthday Dave. From my mother and father...a greeting of "To a very special son". Mother did not say much more. I assumed the gifts would be at dinner time. I could wait. No problem. Hopefully a nice pair of Carrera ski goggles. Off to school. "I wonder who knows," I thought to myself. After a few classes, I soon realized everyone was preoccupied with other things. So finally I had to spill the beans. I told Heather Harkies. A hug ensued. A good day.
DBP 9-23-14
The Bird
Storm and Rayne were sitting, cross-legged on the shore of the western point of Pa’ako Beach. It took them a while to get comfortable on this craggy, sand-challenged portion of beach on Maui Island. They found this spectacular but modest cove by passing through a narrow opening in the lava-rock wall that characterized this special place.
The water was an icy blue, which combined with the windward breeze, created a greater sense of coolness, than actually existed. The famous long white littorals were a quarter-mile away, where they could escape their solitude, if they so desired.
A couple of hundred feet off-shore were two small islands, so small perhaps, they might be better referred to as cays, or simply rocks.
Suddenly, in mid-afternoon, darkness blanketed them. Before they had a chance to gather their thoughts a hawkish shriek deafened them. They were temporarily paralyzed, after instinctively lowering themselves to the ground, like soldiers besieged by gunfire.
Then the sun’s rays welcomed themselves again. The two startled tourists sat up and their eyes followed this air born phenomenon. What they saw was simplify unbelievable. It was a large green bird. More like a shiny, metallic green. Not large, but prodigiously enormous. Before it executed it safe landing on the smaller of the two outcroppings, it’s wings could be seen.
“I can’t believe what I’m seeing Rayne. It’s the biggest bird I’ve ever seen. My God, its wingspan must be, I don’t know… maybe twenty feet.”
Rayne did not reply. She was startled. Maybe frightened.
The giant bird was still, but seemed to be staring right at them.
“Have you any idea what kind of bird that is, Rayne?”
Rayne knew a fair amount about ornithology, but was stumped.
“It looks like the cross between a Pterodactyl and a Haast’s Eagle. But you and I know that is impossible.”
“I want to find out Rayne. The locals must know something about it. By the looks of it, it would not surprise me at all if was a part of Maui legend.”
They sat and stared at this phenomenal creature. They watched as its head jerked at lazar-like speed, its long orange beak submerging itself in the water, and just as quickly re-emerging with what must have been a two-pound fish in its abduction.
“Look at that, Storm! What an appetite it must have.”
Before they had any more of a chance to observe the incredible creature it took off, reaching blinding speed in a few wafts of its wings.
Rayne and Storm instinctively watched its path through the atmosphere. They both turned to each other, about to say the same thing.
“It seems to be heading for Hawaii Island,” informed Rayne.
“Exactly what I was thinking. And on top of that, I hope you are thinking what I am also thinking!”
“We’re going to find it aren’t we.”
“Yes… our vacation is now a safari. In search of a strange bird. And not the kind of bird you find in England, “Storm said with a grin.
“Yes, and that’s a pleasant change indeed,” spoke Rayne sarcastically.
They had a plan. They would visit the Bishop’s Museum in Honolulu. Someone there would be sure to know about this eagle-like flying monstrosity.
They were disappointed and perplexed. Rayne and Storm talked to many people. Information was shared about marine science, volcanology, insects, Polynesian star navigation, and evolutionary theory. Totally fascinating, but not much help.
When they specifically referred to their recent experience, a member of the curator team, Bahram Kinimaka, simply said, “I’m sorry, but no bird like that exists around here. Not that colour, not that size, and certainly not a bird that eats a two-pound fish in one fell swoop.”
Rayne looked at him right in the eye. “We saw it… and it flew right over our heads. It was not an illusion!”
“I am not saying it was… but it sounds like some kind a prank to me. Or maybe a very rare bird… someone’s pet… was let out… or it escaped.” Mr. Kinimaka was trying to be diplomatic. The truth was, he thought the two were nuts. He failed in his attempt at delicacy. Rayne and Storm were insulted, but not hurt.
The next day, the studious pair talked about environmental suspension… how some animals can become frozen in time. If this bird actually did inhabit the islands, somewhere, it would most likely be in the volcanic district; and the bird was flying in that direction.
They took the Interisland Superferry to the island of Hawaii. They then proceeded to rent a pair of mopeds and took Mountain View Road 11 to Hawaii Volcanos National Park. Before heading out on any excursions by foot they studied all the literature they could find on the volcanoes, and their history. They were aware that volcanoes had a way of transforming environmental conditions, altering the path of many lifeforms over thousands, even millions of years. It also seemed logical to them, that inactive volcanoes might be more pertinent for their research. Some wildlife would live near active volcanoes, but as far as inactive ones were concerned, they can provide an ideal home that offers nutrients from rare and seldom found plants. There might be flora and fauna right in the throat of the volcano.
The nearby Kohala volcano was right next to the active Maunaloa tempest. It had erupted one-hundred and twenty thousand years ago and large gorges had formed since. Large landslides had characterized the area for thousands of years following its latest blast. One tidbit of information that Storm had unearthed was that a powerful tsunami had torn through the island about the same time as the last eruption.one-hundred and twenty-thousand years ago. Due to this combination of events the area has established its own unique ecosystem. Invasive species have since pushed out much of the native species.
Storm explained to Rayne, “This metamorphosis fascinates me, and something tells me that it is the source of the existence of that bird!”
“I think your right. And that tsunami, who know what it brought with it. It probably came for Japan or the Philippines.”
“They didn’t record anything in those days obviously, but the one in 1946 was 7.4 on the Richter scale. The waves travelled at five-hundred miles an hour and they were over fifty-five feet high.”
“It’s beyond my imagination,” said Rayne shaking her head, which was more of an emotional reaction than anything. She was well studied on the subject, and these statistics were well within her grasp.
They spent the next week hiking, and researching, saving late evenings for a quiet perch on the porch of the small cabin they had rented. The fossils they had found sent a clear message, that was not unknown to local paleontologists.
A thousand years ago, strange creatures lived in this area. Moai mythology and religion solidified the communities of the time, and it was very difficult to dissect the ancient sources of information to clarify reality from myth.
Rayne came across an interesting tale. Its fascination suddenly grew to disbelieving astoundment.
Storm listen to this.
The marriage of Maui’s daughter was postponed as Pele declared that she was evil in her admission to powers that could be misused to denounce misbegotten births. Maui insisted on the marriage, claiming that he could trick Pele’s son into the marriage if he did not obey. Pele refused to obey. Maui then told Pele a story of him kidnapping his son and taking him and his daughter to a secret place in the mountains. Maui disguised himself as a Kereru, a green and white bird with a long orange beak.
But Maui, the master of trickery, was fooled himself. Pele pretended to be accommodating, by showing him a beautiful shady home, tucked inside one of the highest mountain tops.
When the transfigured Maui entered this strange crater-like habitat, it began to shake and rumble. Debris came from every direction and hot gases started to suffocate him. But before he was devoured, he was heard yelling in desperation… “Pele… I will come back to get you… even if it takes 120,000 years!”