The Fall of Arnon

Chapter 5

Mornings are for each individual a singular affair. For one it is a time of rejoicing and new beginnings. For another it is simply a time of reflecting over deeds done or undone from the morning preceding. And for another it is simply more time to spend sleeping.

For Father Thomas, it was a morning for the great art of reflection. Cold wind stirred his mind and heart far from the green hill he now rested his weary body.

It had been his practice since he had arrived in the city, to walk five miles to the spot, a spot he came to call the Hill of God. It was here that he had felt nearest to God in the years when his faith had been tried the most.

Now, once more, he could feel the pressures of this life building up against him. Its slimy talons easily found the weakest links in his spiritual armor and dug in. A rush of sadness blew across his weary shoulders. A long life was not everything he had hoped it would be. He never realized something could be so full of darkness. Pain and loss seemed to haunt his steps.

"Oh Lord," he said softly. "Your commands are true and Your promises last forever. I know this. Teach me to believe this."

With the first glistens of the sun, the birds began singing their merry songs. A rabbit dashed across the hill in front of the old priest. He smiled, a thought coming into his head. Maybe if God took care of this small rabbit, He might care just a little for his own small life.

It was with this thought, Father Thomas left his safe haven. A spring in his step followed him all the way back to his home.

It was another beautiful day in the sunny land of Arnon. Birds chirped, flowers peaked their dainty heads toward the sun, and man once again began their merry stroll through life.

Down the empty country roads, Father Thomas walked. It would soon be when the farmers would start bringing their goods to the marketplace. Some would already have made the long trek even before the sun made its first appearance.

A wagon laden with goods, pulled by two large, grey horses was the first to pass the good priest. The driver, a man no older than twenty, was smiling and whistling an old farmer's tune. Seeing Father Thomas, his grin widened. "Hullo there." Tipping his hat, he squinted in the sun. "And, where are you off to this early in the morning?"

The priest smiled. There was something so free and unrestrained about country folk. He always liked to attribute it to the unmasked beauty of God they experienced every time they stepped out of their doors. "Hello Arkonan, just having a talk with God." 

The young man nodded in understanding.

"Aye, there is no place better than the rolling hills of Arnon to feel His presence. Sometimes I wonder how all the townsfolk can ever feel close to Him."

"Well, I suppose God can be in even the most wretched of places working His will out in the strangest of ways," Father Thomas said, thoughtfully.

To this, Arkonan simply smiled. "Well, I must be off. You wouldn't want a ride to town, would you?"

"No, a walk always does me good in the morning." With that dismissal, the wagon passed on.

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It had not been a restful night for Sir Ryan. Hours of going over every law he could find taking away power from the king. There were not many. No-one, back in the time the kingdom had first been established, seemed intent upon keeping the king from retaining too much power.

One or two spoke of family feuds, duels, etc. in which the king was to have no part, but he could find nothing to prevent him from the murder of an innocent man.