***NOTE*** THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION. VIEWS EXPRESSED BY CHARACTERS IN THIS STORY ARE MEANT TO BE REPRESENTATIVE OF MEDIEVAL PREJUDICES AND WORLD-VIEWS, SOME OF WHICH WERE VERY COMMON IN THAT TIME PERIOD. THEY DO NOT NECESSARILY REFLECT THE AUTHOR'S PERSONAL SENTIMENTS OR BELIEFS.
With that said, please enjoy the rest of this strange tale.
The Color of Mantis, Part II C. Casey Gardiner
* * *
At the priory's simple breakfast meal of bread and beer (for the wells were dangerous to drink from), Maria discussed her mantis obsession with her bench-neighbor, Sister Francesca. She did not tell of last night's dream. The woman had no need to know of such oddities. Francesca was surprisingly consoling, and claimed to know of an excellent remedy for Maria's dilemma. She resolved to share it with her after Vespers, the evensong prayer hour.
The day's labor went on, much as before. Altadonna was especially rueful this day, as this was one of the last days for the vineyard's summer season. All the grapes for summer wine had to be collected within this day or the next, or else the flavor would begin to sour. Maria ignored the sharp pains running up her back that she received for pushing herself, and concealed her grimace beneath the brim of a straw hat. Her mind, now, was elsewhere. Beneath and above a shimmering field of gold and silver stars, she retreated into the arms of... whom?
Her fingers were raw.
"Whoever you were," she whispered to the vine-fields, "I did enjoy your company."
In the evening, Sister Francesca was true to her word, but rather than explain anything within the short time the two passed each other in the corridor after Vespers, she pressed a small, weighted pouch into Maria's palm. "You may keep it," she confided. "I have others."
"What is it?" the girl asked, turning the pouch over.
"One of God's instruments," Francesca smiled. "Discipline."
Retiring to her cell that evening, Maria was dismayed, but not surprised, to see what was in the pouch. Rather hoping it was a rosary or scapular, instead she stared at the fine strands of linked metal rods and rings, gathered together at one end by a worn, wooden handle. She had seen a flagrum before, of course, many times when she was a young girl, wielded by the marching bands of penitents who occasionally passed through the town square, singing their loud, mournful songs, the geisslerlieder as some called them, and keeping rhythm upon each other's backs by each lashing stroke. She recalled their white robes, soaked with crimson, and their shuffling gait as they marched in endless, occasionally stumbling circles. She knew it was common practice. She understood, at least abstractly, why they practiced their faith in the way they did, but she could never shake the idea that there was something untoward about the acts of penance through corporal mortification, each time she saw it. To feel the sting of the whip, the pains, at least the physical pains, of Christ, of the world -- this may have been laudable, but she was not as brave.
She tucked the object back into its case and carefully set it on a shelf.
Under the blazing beacons of stars and planets, Mantis embraced her again. "You've returned!" The pool's light reflected rippling, liquid shapes upon the insect-man's beaming face. Maria felt her heart race. He paused a skipping, fidgeting moment before blurting out, "Let us be wed."
"What?" Maria pushed away from him.
His twitching antennae drooped. "I... uh... perhaps that was a bit hasty."
Maria, more confused than angry, asked, "W-why... in the world would you say such a thing?" She paused to reflect on the absurdity. "And besides, I am to be wedded to the church, to God!"
The creature seemed to shrink before her as he avoided her eyes. "Yes, but, uh... you have not made the vows... and can't one be married to a creator through his own creation as well?" He shrugged, "It all emanates from the same place anyway, does it not?" He cleared his throat. "That is... in... theory..." He tapered off, miserably.
Maria shook her head, trying to find words. "How... why did you wish to marry me? We've barely met!"
"Yes! True! But... but... I feel as if I've known you for ages now!" Mantis scratched quickly at the back of his collar. "Tell me, truly. Don't you feel the same way?"
"Perhaps," she admitted, and was surprised at her admittance, for it was only after that moment that she had realized it to be true, "But you're not even... well... look at you!" She gestured to the monstrous man in his silken finery. "You're a... a... demon!"
He scoffed. "And you are not?"
She tilted her head. He gestured to the pool. Looking into its luminescent waters, she caught her own mysterious reflection.
"I was going to tell you..." he offered.
Shock was on her own mantid face. "What in heaven's name have you done to me?"
"This is dreamspace," he reassured her. "The change isn't permanent... unless you wish it to be."
She studied, with curiosity more than revulsion now, her own visage. "Strange..." she said, tracing the joints of the plates comprising her verdant face with delicate claws. "So strange are the ways of demons!"
Mantis looked hurt. "Not so, milady. I am no maleficent thing." He began pacing. "I am no Tempter, nor a servant of him, nor a servant of his servants... You have met my master. I am certain you remember the encounter."
Maria realized what he was talking about. "That... THING? It tried to devour me! It DID devour me!"
"He did not really try to eat you, Maria... it was a gesture of respect. A sign of acceptance into the idea and being that is Mantis. Try to understand."
"A sign of acceptance is to bite someone's head off!"
"It's the way things are done. The ways of totems are ancient, unfathomable, but they are important. These are strange customs to you, I realize, but they're no stranger than some of your own."
She took a step back. "I have not an inkling of an understanding for what you are talking about."
Mantis rolled his claws around each other as he paced. "Your order... they do strange things. That Sister Francesca, what use does she have of flailing herself? How does this bring aid to the world?"
"How do you know of that?"
"I hear the rumors."
Maria frowned. "I don't fully know, to be honest... I suppose it is to emulate the misery of the world."
"It is a comfort to know there are some who can choose when to have their misery." Mantis turned away. "Or ecstasy."
Maria caught the emphasis. "That is not what it is about." She folded her arms, all four of them, across her silken carapace. It was a peculiar feeling.
"Isn't it?" he snapped. "Did King Solomon, when he built his temple, beat at the walls until cracks formed?" Then his armored face softened. "I apologize, milady. That was... rude, to say the least. The truth is, I can scarcely endure the idea of harm coming to you." He placed his claws upon her plated shoulders. "Promise me you will treat yourself kindly."
She looked away, but didn't pull away from his touch. "Why... Why all this attention? What could you want of me?"
The creature lifted her chin upward, gently, with one claw, to meet his eyes. "Dare I say it?"
She faltered. "Say what?"
He gazed at her. "That I care for you."
There was a long moment when Maria forgot to breathe, and then she shook her arrowed head. "This is a trick. A snare."
"It isn't... I promise you."
She straightened her back. "You promise me?"
"Yes, I promise."
"Prove it."
Mantis nodded. "Yes... I will. How do you wish me to prove it?"
Maria pointed a claw finger at him. "Be honest."
"I am, milady."
"And explain yourself... What is it that you really want?"
His eyes widened. "I speak truthfully, milady... I want-"
"No. What is it your master wants you to want of me?"
"Oh!" His monstrous face brightened. "A simple matter. He wants an emissary."
"A what?"
"An emissary," Mantis stirred his claws again, "An agent for his work and purpose, someone to enact his bidding in the world. An emissary will gain the blessings and freedoms of their host."
"What blessings?"
"Oh... flight, speed, metamorphosis... The totems will give many."
"Totems?" She felt her antennae fold back, and the feeling was mildly disturbing. "You speak of pagan gods."
"Not at all, dear Maria... I speak of nature and her keepers."
"Servants?"
He grinned. "Exactly."
Her eyes narrowed. "What bidding?"
"A virtue. A simple one."
Maria puzzled for a moment before she straightened up. "Patience."
Mantis nodded.
"But I serve the creator."
"Yes, yes, so do we all."
"You do?"
"Of course! He who gives of flies, also lends his own patience. In this light, our duty is clear... to wait until the perfect moment, to strike."
Maria shifted her weight. "To strike at what?"
The keen creature grinned. "The Giver of Lies."
A knock.
Celestial lights gave way to the dimness of early morning.
"Rise," came the call after knocking, "and serve the Lord."
Perhaps she would, Maria thought, while stretching her two, thin arms above her head. It was a peculiar feeling. Although, perhaps there was more than one way to go about it. Perhaps there was as many ways as there were grains of sand upon the shore, or stars in the heavens. Perhaps there were infinite ways. Ways to explore, ways to learn and study and grow. Ways to fight a world of lies and peel away the layers of accumulated pain and deceit, until the truth was found.
And perhaps, now, as strange as it sounded, she would not have to do it all alone.
Maria swallowed. This was madness. It was heresy.
Wasn't it?
In the cool of the morning, Mother Consola reclined in her seat between open leaves of vellum. The abbess rested her head upon one gnarled fist, her wrinkled face curled into a single, timeless, unanswerable question. Her eyes were closed, and for a moment, between heaving breaths, Maria thought the old woman had fallen asleep.
Then the abbess spoke. "Who else, besides Sister Drudola and Sister Francesca have you consulted about this?" Her face looked out through pale, clouded windows.
Maria straightened herself. "No-one at length, Mother. I must know... Is this a trick?"
The abbess sighed and stretched herself like an old hunting hound. "My child, the whole of the world may be seen as a trick, if one chooses to see the world this way. There are many who say the earth is the devil's domain."
The girl frowned. "And what do you say? Surely this is the most bizarre thing anyone has told you."
The woman shrugged. "Many years have passed before me. Many secrets I have heard in these walls, and kept, and I will keep them all, Maria, until the Lord asks for them back. I understand you to be a woman of science, Maria. A dangerous vocation in these times, but perhaps, in the future, not so unheard of..." She leaned forward, and Maria felt surprise at her own fear of this dusty relic of a woman. "Tell me, child... in your studies, have you ever heard of anything as ridiculous as the story you have told me?"
Maria felt indignation rising in her gut. "There is nothing ridiculous about it!"
"Isn't there? You understand mantis-men in long coats to be an everyday occurrence here?"
The girl faltered. "I... no... but I have not lied to you!"
"I didn't accuse you of lies," Mother Consola now watched Maria with a strange, unsettling look. "I asked you, have you heard of anything similar?"
She shook her head. "In truth, I have not."
"But I have."
Maria looked up, and watched the woman turn to pull a brown volume from the shelf, and lay it before Maria between all the others. The girl read the title with interest, and then undisguised revulsion. The Malleus Malificarum. The Witches' Hammer.
"How dare you! I am a good person!" The girl yelled.
The abbess did not flinch. "Then, you are familiar with this work."
"I am... I have not read it, but, Mother, please believe I have never done any witchcraft, at all!"
"Again, you leap to conclusions..." The abbess grumbled, and Maria was quiet. "If you have not read the Inquisitor's work, I may tell you, it is out-dated, to say the least. The Inquisitor's words are contradictory, sometimes upon the same page, and the whole of the work serves no better purpose than to fuel the hellish fires within the hearts of the cruel. Yet, it is still endorsed by the Church, and we still bear the weight of its blood-stained pages. Why, Maria?" She thumped the cover with a stony fist, and the girl was startled. "Listen! I will disclose the secret. There are many in this world who cannot conceive of miracles. They speak of miracles, and preach of them, but they cannot believe in them, because they have never felt a miracle themselves. So what do these people do, Maria? They tell the others that any time anything strange happens, it is because the devil himself has made it happen. Tell them of Fair Folk, and they will see demons. Tell them of voices in the wood, or visions in the glass of a lake, and they will cry the name of Lucifer. You see what they do, Maria? Without realizing it at all, they place all of their faith in the hands of the enemy." The woman stood up, slowly, like a great wave rising in the sea, and pulled the book away. Sliding it back into its place on the shelf, she said, "And I have learned, I learned it long ago, that it is not for me to decide of whom has been visited by the devil, and whom has been visited by God... That decision, and where you choose to go with it, is solely yours, Maria." Then the woman slumped down in the chair again, like a bundle of dropped sheets, and looked again to have fallen asleep.
Maria continued. "You said you've heard of something similar."
"Yes... the Benandanti of Friuli," the abbess heaved. "They who once called themselves the Hounds of God... They were a band of men who, nightly, claimed they were each awakened by a war-drum at their door. The men found themselves changed then, metamorphosed into fierce wolf-beasts, and joined into a fearsome army."
Maria marvelled. "An army of beasts! To what end?"
"To protect the village against witches, of course. What else would a ‘hound of God' do with such a frame? Nightly they went out into the fields around Friuli, and fought, and were victorious, and nightly they each returned to bed, thus having served the mystery of the Lord."
The girl swallowed. "Astonishing... What happened to them?"
The abbess turned around and tapped her finger on the spine of the Malleus Malificarum. "They were tried, of course, but despite being involved in such untoward activity, the judges, to their dismay, could find little wrong with these Benandanti. The reasoning was, if they were enemies of the devil's minions, well, we can't find anything wrong with that, can we?" The abbess let out a soft cackle.
The girl pondered over the old woman's words. "Are you suggesting that I'm to be recruited for some sort of... insectine army?"
"I suggest nothing, child... But if you want to know more about it, perhaps you should ask him yourself."
"Who? Mantis?"
The abbess shook her head. "I will say no more. This is not my jurisdiction. However, I will insist," She stood up and took Maria over to the door, "that what we have discussed will not leave this room, for obvious reasons. You have nothing to fear, Maria. I trust you will make the right decision."
That evening, when she touched down and glided across the stone floor to him, Maria Verdelanda di Conte-Pinento was ready for the mantis-being. She snapped her pincers at him, "I know what you want. I have heard about the Benandanti. I know what you mean for me to do."
Mantis stopped in his tracks, and his grin faded. "The Good-Walkers... So, you know of them. Yes, Maria. I must be honest. There is a similar threat to that which they faced. We have little time to prepare." He scratched at his collar. "I was going to tell you."
She placed her arms, all four of them, at her waist. "You think me to be suitable for a soldier! I am no fighter. I have never raised a weapon or worn armor in my life!"
"Maria!" Again, his claws rested atop her shoulders. "You have a strong heart. That is armor enough."
She pushed away from him. "Enough of this. What sort of foolish army recruits its minions from a convent?"
Mantis looked away. "It is time you met the others."
Maria tilted her head. "Others?"
The creature took hold of one of her clawed hands. "Come with me, now." The wings on his back now rose and fluttered, and Maria, fluttering with him through mechanisms that she was still completely ignorant of and found bewildering, flew, hand in hand, with him to another place and time. The stars around them flashed and pulsed, and the wheels and spheres ground faster and faster, until everything became a blur of sound and light. Maria shut her eyes.
"Dioneo!" A high-pitched voice called out, and she opened them again. The two of them were now standing in a dark field. Overhead, the stars shone as they had always shone, in a normal manner. There were no levitating pavilions, and no great celestial wheels. There were however, more monstrous creatures.
"Dioneo!" The voice called again, and the Maria's friend let go of her hand to greet another mantid-being. "Who is this you have brought, this night?"
Maria watched the two of them greet each other and exchange pleasantries, with a hurt expression. "Dioneo..." she repeated. "You told me your name was Mantis."
Her host turned toward her with an apologetic smile. "Ah, Maria... I am sorry. By night, yes, my name is Mantis. But by day, it is only Dioneo." He gestured to everyone, standing around, twitching their antennae and tilting their arrowed heads one way or another. "By night, we are all Mantis, as we serve his army. Maria, may I introduce my little cousin, Salvestra."
Salvestra's high voice lilted. "Maria, I have heard kind things about you."
She folded her arms and looked away. "I want nothing to do with these abominations," she huffed. "I have no desire to fight some strange battle in some far-off land."
Mantis, now known to be Dioneo, looked surprised. "Maria! This is not just any battle. Take a look around you!"
The mantis-girl looked around, and saw that she recognized the field which they all stood in. It was the Doge's vineyard just outside of the priory's walls. In the distance, Maria could make out the silhouette of the bell-tower, where Sister Drudola would be seated. She now felt dizzy.
"I thought this was a dream," she whimpered.
"Oh, Maria," Dioneo now reached for her. "Do not fear. This night we have all been chosen to defend our home... The minions of darkness are many, buy they are weak, compared to us. We will all of us be victorious."
The mantis-girl now studied her neighbors and tried to see if she recognized any of them. She did not, but then again, none of them were human now. She looked into Dioneo's eyes, and saw the stars, the real stars of the Milky Way, reflected in them. "You brought me into the middle of a war, with no warning, no insight, no training. I may not forgive you."
His antennae lowered. "I am truly sorry, but we had no time..."
"Take me back," she snapped.
Dioneo looked startled. "Alas, I cannot!"
"No?" The mantis-girl hissed, "Then I am leaving."
Dioneo's eyes widened. "What? No! You cannot go!"
"And why not?"
"Because, we need you!"
Maria strode away, into the dark. "You do not."
Dioneo's voice cracked with desperation. "I need you!"
The girl felt hot tears running down her plated face. "Damn you," she said under her breath, and continued walking. Dioneo did not follow.
A short time later, when she was about halfway between the vineyard and the gate to the priory, Maria heard a commotion. She turned to see a cloud of winged creatures descend upon the field, with a great thundering hiss. Without realizing it, she felt her wings lift her up and toward the fray. The field rushed up to her. Dioneo was locked in a struggle with a fearsomely hairy and demonic creature, something which resembled a housefly, if a housefly were to be the size the weight of a man, and walk upright. She watched the thing take a swipe at him.
Maria hissed and grabbed the fly-beast by its neck. Without knowing exactly what she was doing or why she chose to do it, Maria bit the head off at the neck, and then reeled back as the creature left a stinging wound on her arm.
"Oh, God!" She stumbled away from the flailing, headless monster-body as it tumbled to the earth, and she fell back into Dioneo's arms. "What... did... I... just... do?"
Dioneo hugged her. "You saved me, Maria."
"I... I..." She risked another look down at her fallen foe. "I did, didn't it?"
He nodded vigorously. "Yes! You did!" Then another shadow closed over them and Maria shrieked. With a violent twist of his razor claws, Dioneo felled the buzzing, screeching creature. "And now I've returned the favor!"
Maria shut her eyes. "This is horrible!"
"Yes!" Dioneo panted. "It is! I am so glad you are here by my side at this time! I don't think I could bear it, otherwise." He darted off to crush another creature that had landed in the vineyard, and left Maria by herself. She turned to watch the others, defenders of the town, of order, peace and sanity, wave their razor arms around like brandished steel.
"This is... insane." She said to herself, then heard another heavy buzzing directly behind her. She turned to face the fly-beast. "If you walk like men, then surely you must reason as men do! Who are you?" She took a step back as the thing advanced. "What do you want? Who do you serve?"
The thing twitched its hairy head, and let out a low growl that Maria had to pause to interpret as words, "WEEE SERRRVE THE LORRRD OF FLLLIES."
"And who is that?" she hollered.
But the beast closed the distance between them and leapt at her. A verdant blur crashed into its side and sent it tumbling. Dioneo looked up and yelled, "Who do you suppose?!" Then, he pounced upon the shadows, and sliced through the air, until the hulking figure lay still.
"The Giver of Lies..." she growled.
"Exactly the same," he countered.
"In case you were wondering," she glared at him, "This is no way to court a woman."
Dioneo exhaled. "Yes. I know. I promise we'll do it properly, after tonight."
"If we survive!"
"We'll survive. We have before... many times."
Maria's eyes widened. "You've done this before? How many times?"
Dioneo stood up and dusted himself off. "Five times, for myself. Some of the others, they have served for many years before me. I imagine their battles number into the hundreds."
Maria gasped. "I don't want to do this!"
"Would you rather they took hold of the field?" He gestured to the hovering fly-horde.
She shivered. "Never! But, what on earth do they want with it? Why fight these bloody battles here? What could these..." She spat out the taste of her foe on the cold soil. "These demons want with our town?"
"Conte-Pinento has long been a cross-roads for otherworldly peoples... These ones would have control over all other people, including ourselves."
"Then this is an ancient battle!"
"Very ancient..." He said, gravely.
"Is it..." she stared at the crumpled, eviscerated figure. "Is it real?"
"Of course it's real... This fight does not take place in our world, though. It is parallel to it. We dare not let them set foot in the real Conte-Pinento!" His head snapped up as he heard a cry. "Meet me tomorrow, at the center of town, beside the well. I'll wait for you." He flew off.
She called after him, surprised. "What time?"
She thought she heard a smile in his voice. "At midday! Or any time afterward!"
She turned to see another hideous fly-creature land and stalk toward her. She wanted to turn and run, but she did not.
Instead she charged toward her aggressor, and as she rent the monster from the monster's limbs, her mind flitted from question to question. How could such a thing come to be? How could it remain unknown? Ever since she was young, Maria was certain there were bands of angels, or some sort of protectors looking out for her, and the other innocent people of the world, but she could not guess that such a protector would turn out to be her own self. She had rather hoped the land to be watched over by someone else, someone more competent. "I am not ready for this!" she snarled, as she dealt the killing blow to another beast.
There was the sound of footsteps, and a gentle knock. "Rise," Sister Clarissima called out, "and serve the Lord."
Maria stretched. "But, I just did..." Then, she realized she was awake.
She put her face into her hands. "What a horrible dream!" she groaned, but now held her breath as she saw a fresh scar on her forearm.
Impossible.
Wasn't it?
"You wish to leave the grounds?" Mother Consola raised an eyebrow as Maria stood across from her in the study. "Has this anything to do with yesterday's discussion?" The old woman leaned across her desk. "How were you, last night?"
Maria's own brow was furrowed. "You knew, didn't you?" she said, flinging her hands up. "You knew the entire time, what would happen! Why did you not warn me?"
The abbess was unperturbed. "I don't know what you're talking about. What was I to warn you about?"
"The..." Maria stopped, and lowered her hands. Should she be speaking about this? "Never mind it, Mother. I'm sorry to have troubled you."
"Hold." The old woman ordered. "What is this scar upon your arm?"
Maria pulled her sleeve down, and looked away. "It is nothing, Mother."
"Nothing? It certainly looks like something."
Maria swallowed. "Sister Francesca has lent me her flagrum. I made... use... of it last night."
The abbess groaned. "Perhaps you have made too much use of it, then, but I suppose it is not for me to decide how others will conduct their own private penances. Do mind your own health, Maria."
"Yes, Mother."
The abbess smiled softly. "A day's reprieve may be good for your nerves. Frail as they may be. I will allow it."
Maria made a bow and thanked her. After she left, the old woman leaned back in her chair and sighed. "After all," she murmured as she tided the folios and books on her desk, "The Benandanti work just as hard as the rest of us."
Outside, with the midday sun's warmth upon her shoulders, Maria strode softly to the top of a hill. Looking down over its crest, she could see the citizens of Conte-Pinento going about their daily lives. Cheerful. Ornery. Swift. Slow. Content.
Safe.
In the distance, beside the small grove of trees, there was a tall figure in a long coat leaning against the town's stone well, hands in his pockets.
"I'm terrified," she said to herself. "I cannot move." But, slowly, one pace after the next, Maria found herself walking, and then running, down the hill.
