“As you wish, Reverend Abbot,” said Martin. And he began.
In the twelfth year of the rule of King Acwald of Barsyt, Ewolda was given by God to His people. She was born of King Acwald and his Queen Ceolwen in the same hour as her brother, Wigbert. In that moment the darkness of the room was illuminated and those who witnessed this miracle, not yet being followers of the one true God, believed this light to come from her beauty, though we know now that an angel of the Lord sat vigil over her birth and ascended into heaven in shafts of light to bring word to our most holy Father. This was the first true miracle of St. Ewolda.
As Ewolda grew so her beauty did also, and in her twelfth year, there began a procession of suitors to the court of Barsyt, for stories of the princess had spread throughout the land. To all such suitors both King Acwald and the princess herself gave rebuff, until there came, in the sixteenth year of her life, Prince Hungstan of the Kingdom of Waldburgh. Waldburgh was a kingdom of some wealth, and King Acwald saw the wisdom of the match, and so Ewolda was betrothed to Hungstan and King Acwald agreed that the marriage would take place in one year’s time.
After the departure of Hungstan, there came another leader who had heard of the beauty and purity of Ewolda, and this man came not to pursue her hand for himself, but rather to bring to her the most holy Gospel of Christ in the hope that Ewolda would dedicate her life to our Lord, and maintain her chastity in his honor. This visitor was a great leader in battle, but he was also a Christian and had learned of Christ in the hidden places of Britain, where the light of the Gospel still burned after the fall of Rome. Many hours did this king, for so he was called, spend each day with Ewolda, teaching her the good news of Christ, and after seven days, Ewolda declared her wish to be baptized. The king who had taught her traveled with a priest, and in the waters of the River Esk was Ewolda baptized and made one with Christ. After the baptism of Ewolda, the visitor remained for seven more days, teaching her the ways of Christ, and then he did depart, leaving Ewolda with the promise of his return and the blessing of Almighty God.
All this passed without the knowledge of King Acwald, who had been away at the court of Cearl of Mercia when the visitor came. On the king’s return, Ewolda told her father of her new faith and tried all such ways as she knew to convince the king of the truth of the Gospel. But when she claimed her chastity for Christ and said that she would not marry Hungstan, her father flew into a rage and locked Ewolda away in a cell. There she prayed from dawn to dusk each day, and committed herself further to Christ, vowing to found a monastery on the site of her imprisonment.
Now it came to pass that Hungstan returned, and Ewolda was released from her cell and forced to marry him, but she said unto him that she would not allow him his marriage rights, for her body belonged to Christ alone and she would remain chaste. Hungstan grew wild with anger and vowed that he would claim his rights on the third night hence. Ewolda was locked again in her cell, but was surprised to find there her brother, Wigbert, who had entered the world so soon after her. Now, Wigbert had been abroad and had returned on the day of the wedding, and so he asked his sister why she was condemned to this cell. And when Ewolda confessed her faith to Wigbert, he was greatly moved and vowed to be baptized himself and to stand by his sister and aid her in the great work of Christ and in founding a monastery.
When the third night arrived, Hungstan came to claim his rights, but Ewolda cried from within the cell that she would die before giving up her virtue to him. Then there emerged from the cell a figure in the robe of a woman and a voice cried, “To Christ alone I give my life.” Hungstan threw the figure upon the ground and demanded his rights, but the cry came back “No.” And again Hungstan made this demand, and again the figure responded “No.” And a third and final time, Hungstan demanded his rights, and the figure cried, “My life before my virtue.” Then Hungstan raised his sword and was just about to rain his blow upon the figure when Ewolda ran from the darkness of the cell. For it was her brother, Wigbert, who lay beneath the sword, ready to sacrifice his life in the name of Christ and for the honor of his sister. But Ewolda could not accept so generous a gift, and as the blow fell she threw her body between the sword and Wigbert, and Hungstan hewed off her head. Ewolda’s body fell to the ground, and where her blood spilled there instantly sprang forth a font of clear, fresh water. When Hungstan beheld this miracle he fell on his knees and begged forgiveness of Wigbert, who wept by his sister’s body.
On the site of that holy and sacred spring did Wigbert found the monastery of St. Ewolda and there he did baptize Hungstan and King Acwald and Queen Ceolwen. Ewolda was entombed beside the spring and from that day forth the waters of Ewolda’s spring had miraculous powers, and many were the sick and lame who traveled to that spot and were healed by the miracle of Ewolda’s sacrifice.
“But who was the man who taught your sister?” said Martin. “Surely you must name the blessed man who brought the light of Christ to this place.”
“I shall name him,” said Wigbert. “But only I shall name him.” And Wigbert, though by no means a scribe of Martin’s skill, added a few words of his own to the manuscript that Martin had prepared.
“May I read what you have written?” said Martin.
“I believe,” said Wigbert, “it is time you returned to France.”
May 26, 2016
FEAST OF AUGUSTINE, FIRST ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY
“During the reign of Cearl of Mercia,” said Arthur in amazement. “That’s early sixth century. A hundred and fifty years before we thought St. Ewolda’s was founded. This makes Barchester possibly the earliest continuously operating Christian foundation in England.” They had finished decoding all but the last few lines of Ewolda’s biography and Arthur had just read the translation aloud.
“I wish we knew who the man was,” said David, “the one who converted her to Christianity.”
“I suppose he’s one of those characters lost in the mists of time,” said Arthur.
“The service is about to begin,” said Oscar.
They made their way toward the cathedral, and as Bethany was about to enter the south transept from the cloister, Arthur pulled gently on her arm and she turned back while David and Oscar disappeared into the cathedral.
“I don’t usually go to Communion services,” he said.
“You came to Evelyn’s Funeral Mass,” said Bethany.
“That was different.”
“You know, Arthur, you can decide to believe. That’s all it takes sometimes is a decision. You decided to believe in the Grail; you can decide to believe in God.”