Stones of wrath, p.1
Stones of Wrath, page 1
Stones of Wrath
The Tapestry
By SJ Ratcliffe
Copyright © 2024 by SJ Ratcliffe
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. All characters, locations and events in the narrative - other than those based on acutal people - are products of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and not intended by the author. Where real historical figures, locations and events appear, these have been depicted in a fictional context.
Visit SJ Ratcliffe’s website at
https://www.sjratcliffeauthor.com/
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data on file
Paperback ISBN: 978-1-962465-30-4
E-Book ISBN: 978-1-962465-29-8
THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED TO
SUSANNE HORMEMAN HARRIS
A warm, kind, loving woman of God.
A brave Dane who survived WWII in Denmark.
Gone now but never forgotten.
Table of Contents
Prologue
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Twenty-Five
Twenty-Six
Twenty-Seven
Twenty-Eight
Twenty-Nine
Thirty
Thirty-One
Thirty-Two
Thirty-Three
Thirty-Four
Thirty-Five
Thirty-Six
Thirty-Seven
Thirty-Eight
Thirty-Nine
Forty
Forty-One
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About The Author
Prologue
Lindisfarne Monastery
Holy Island Northumberland England
AD 793 June 7th:
Almost midnight.
B
rother Audlac smelled the storm before the fiery dragons split the air. He counted, waiting for the thunder as fat raindrops sounded on the roof. When it arrived and rolled across the monastery, it reverberated with a foreboding growl.
“Quick, close the shutters.” He shouted behind him.
The monks jumped into action, their faces shimmering as more lightning cracked across the horizon. As one brother ducked at the next roll of thunder, Audlac laid his hand on his shoulder. “Fear not brother, ’tis but a storm. I am going to the church to pray.”
As he left the communal refectory, an unease swept across him. Something was niggling at his usual calm. With the candles now lit in the building behind him, a soft glow cut patterns across the grass. The rainfall increased, pelting down on their vegetable garden, which grew alongside the church. Another loud crack caused the sheep to bleat, stamping their feet in their small enclosure. Adding to the cacophony, the door on the storehouse rattled, threatening to burst open. Audlac stopped to lean a sturdy post against the door, then hurried along the path.
Even with his lantern rocking in his hand, he could only just see where he was going. He felt rather than saw the waves pounding the beach just a few yards away. His hair stirred underneath his cloak, and he shivered. Raising his eyes, he whispered, “Dear Lord, this is no ordinary storm.” With effort, he pulled the sturdy church door open as wind howled around it, tugging at it, and resisting his strength.
Forcing his way around the door, he threw himself inside the church. The wind shrieked, blowing the door back and forth until Audlac caught hold of it and forced it shut.
He squinted in the gloom—I must light the candles.
Light created a warm atmosphere as he went from candlestick to candlestick and lit them. The wind buffeted the flames even with the door closed. As he walked to the altar, Audlac looked up at the simple wooden cross and an inner warmth enveloped him. He made the sign of the cross and knelt, his eyes raised. A hush came over his spirit as he prayed. Audlac felt he was in the squall's eye as it battered the little Celtic church. He was thus preoccupied and unaware of the three Viking long ships that had just arrived from Denmark, their black raven flags flapping in the wind. These three ships, with their crimson and white striped sails, had been off the coast for the last few hours. If it hadn’t been for the tempest, he and his fellow monks may have wondered who had come to their island. If they’d known anything about these seafaring Norsemen, they would have run for their lives.
The door to the church flew open, and Audlac drew in a sharp breath. Standing before him was a giant of a man with flaming red hair. He was dressed like a warrior, with weapons in his belt and a broadsword by his side. On his shoulder he carried a large chest, which appeared to be indescribably ancient. The giant spoke in halting English and Audlac tilted his head as he tried to grasp his accent. “I come in good will. Do not be afraid.”
The stranger moved toward him, but Audlac raised his hand, still unsure. “Halt, don’t come any closer.” The giant pointed at the Bible on the lectern and moved to open it with reverence to the book of Exodus. He pointed at the cross and at himself. Relief dawned on Audlac’s features, “You’re a follower of our Lord?”
A deep, yet humble voice answered him, “I am ... my name is Elaf. I have been to Britain many times as a child with my father. News of the monk Aidan and his teachings of Jesus had reached us. I felt a calling in my heart. Then, I experienced a dream of two things. First, I must return to Britain and second, I must bring this ancient Ark to Saint Aidan’s monastery.”
Audlac sensed goosebumps sliding down the back of his neck as the story unfolded. Elaf took a breath and continued.
“A year ago, in my homeland, there had been great excitement in my village. Elaborate boats were being built to travel the sea to Britain. I spent many months in training, so they might select me to join the crews. My size and strength were the overriding reasons they chose me, and because I can speak English. I had not realised their journey here was not for trade. It was for something far more sinister.”
Elaf hefted the strange chest onto the stone steps leading to the altar. He gestured for Audlac to inspect it.
“Please look. Tell me what you see.”
Audlac looked into the man’s eyes. He met an intensity there that was unnerving. Moving closer to the chest, he placed his hand on it. Strange figures made of ivory, wood, and gold appeared in relief on the surface.
Audlac’s voice was a whisper. “So beautiful, a work of art.”
He lifted the lid. Inside were three chambers. In each were large broken pieces of blue stone. On them were words in a language that Audlac could not read. He looked up at Elaf with a questioning gaze. Elaf drew a breath as he spoke. “This Ark has been passed down and protected for generations, back to the great mountain of God.”
Audlac covered his mouth. “Are you telling me this is the Ark of the Covenant?”
“No, and yes.”
Elaf sat down on the front pew as he continued his tale.
“Remember the story of the golden calf in the book of Exodus? What did Moses do when he came down from the mountain?” Audlac looked once more at the carved figures on the chest. He peered closer and realised it was depicting Moses on the mountain of God with the newly minted ten commandments. Moses was heaving them down the mountainside in an absolute fury.
Audlac’s brow furrowed as he spoke. “Moses became enraged at their idolatry and …” His voice trailed off. “You mean … these are the broken pieces of the first covenant?”
“Indeed, brother, the very same. These stones embody the wrath of God and his abhorrence of sin. God's wrath, his real justice, will not be meted out until after the battle of Armageddon. This is when the rule of men will end. These stones will remain hidden until that time, when they will return to the land of Israel. Israel will become one nation again, as it was prophesied. Not in your lifetime, brother, but it will happen.”
Audlac cast his hand around the church. “Why then have you brought them here?”
“God told me to bring them to Saint Aidan’s monastery to be concealed until his appointed time. The stones have moved many times in history. For now, we must hide them here in Lindisfarne. This place is where the Gospel will spread its power.”
Audlac raised his eyebrows. “From here? From little Lindisfarne?”
“Yes. My dreams have shown me there are many parts of our world that have not yet been discovered. In the future, Britain will become a great Empire and her ships will discover unknown lands and establish new countries which will become Christian and be blessed by God. But … in the end of days there will be three world wars. Close to the end of the first of these world wars, a veil will be lifted. This will be the first of many veils to fall from the eyes of the righteous. Each war will bring them more rev elation and more understanding until the end, the last world war before our Lord returns. Until then, these stones must remain hidden.”
“Why? This makes no sense,” Audlac shook his head. “The church must be told of these prophesies.”
Elaf’s face flickered in the candlelight. “God, in his wisdom, says it is not the right time, not yet, and not now. Remember what Paul says in Corinthians: For now, we see through a glass darkly. Brother, time is of the essence. You need to go now! There are three Viking long ships off the coast. They are coming here this very day to raid the monastery.”
“What!” Audlac’s face drained of colour, “I have to warn the others.” He rose to his feet and ran toward the door. Elaf stood in his way.
“Brother, you cannot! There is no time. Your mission is to hide the Ark. God has ordained you for this task. Please close your eyes and seek his guidance, and you will understand. You have lived on this island—you know its secret places. Find an obscure place that can’t be found. A place the Ark can rest for hundreds of years into the future. Only God needs to know its hiding place and he will reveal it in his time.”
Audlac heaved a sigh, stilled himself, knelt at the altar and prayed for guidance and strength. He stood and reached out for his newfound brother and hugged him. A powerful lightning strike lit up the church.
The light was so blinding that Audlac whispered, “God has spoken.” He stepped back from Elaf and nodded.
Elaf handed over the Ark. “I must go. I will stall them as long as I can. My heart grieves for the great loss that you and your holy brothers will suffer. I did not realize my people were intent on raiding this monastery until it was too late. God will prevail, brother Audlac, be strong in Him.”
“God speed, brother Elaf.” Audlac replied as his body shook and blood pulsed at his temples.
***
Audlac understood that if he hastened, he could make it around the beach that led to a large rocky outcrop before sunrise. The great rock was full of hiding places for the Ark. There was very little time, with a long walk ahead of him in the mother of all storms. He grabbed some leather straps and tied the Ark to his back.
The church door almost blew off its hinges when he opened it, knocking Audlac off his feet. He struggled to rise as the ancient chest bore down upon him. Audlac strained and grunted and righted himself. Head down, leaning forward, he walked spreadeagled under the immense weight. “Knowing Moses carried these stones down Mount Sinai gives me courage, Lord.”
Careful to keep out of sight, he crossed the field to the beach. Not using his lamp, he followed the sand as it curved around to the great rock on the other side of the beach. The thunder roared and Audlac called out, “O Lord God on high, guide my steps”.
More than once, the lightning forced him to crouch down and be still. He did not want to be seen from the monastery or the long boats. However, the lightning also showed the path to the western side of the rock. By the time he reached the bottom of the rocky cliff, his cloak was soaked, and his sandaled feet were frozen lumps.
I know we monks have climbed here on numerous occasions, but that was in the daytime, and not in a ferocious storm. There are plenty of promising crevices up there, but which one? God, show me the way.
And so, he climbed. It took an age to ascend even a short distance. His hands and feet lost purchase several times. He was aware it would not be long before dawn broke. Never had he experienced such painful spasms in his back, his feet, and his hands.
Great mercy is upon me, Lord. I could never have achieved this without you.
There were many crevices but none of them were big enough to hold the Ark. Despairing, Audlac shivered as more thunder erupted and everything around him shook. A rockslide cascaded upon him. He ducked and clung to the rocky cliff. Wiping rain and sweat from his eyes, he saw that a tiny cave had opened behind the rocks.
“It is perfect,” he whispered.
Audlac slid the Ark from his back and pushed it as far as it would go into the opening. Sealing it with a large rock, he crouched in front of the cave and bowed his head, relieved and exhausted.
I must mark this cave.
He pulled out his little paring knife and carved the Bible verse—Exodus 32:19. Looking up to the darkened heavens with relief, he felt the sting of the rain on his face.
As the dawn rose on the three Viking long ships, Audlac descended the escarpment. He made his way across the beach and ran to help his brothers. “I am too late!” He wept when he saw the grim sight. His defenceless brother monks were strewn across the grass, mortally wounded by the swords of the Norse warriors. Over near the Monastery wall, he saw a giant of a man defending a small group of monks.
Elaf is enabling them to escape!
Then, as quickly as he’d come into Audlac’s life, Elaf was gone. Audlac grasped at the wood cross around his neck. “Into the arms of God, killed by his own kin. The devil always contests the things of God. Rest in peace, dear brother,” he whispered.
Audlac breathed in short, faltering breaths as a large shadow loomed over him. The Viking warrior raised his sword as Audlac raised his voice.
“Jesus, forgive him and lead him to you. Into your hands, dear Father, I commit my eternity.”
Audlac’s spirit left his earthly body knowing he had accomplished what had been required of him. The Vikings took Lindisfarne and the Holy Island of Northumberland, the beginning of their reign of terror across Britain.
One
Sheffield England
WWI
1916
Ivy Jenkins
I
vy glanced out the window at the daffodils poking through the thawed earth. The view of spring emerging did nothing for her mood.
Dear Lord, has there ever been a more difficult winter than this? She stopped reading the newspaper and threw it on the floor. War is spreading across the map like a plague. I can’t think about it anymore. And dear sweet Ted, I miss him. Thank you for saving him, Lord … but could you tell him to put pen to paper so we can stop worrying?
With conscription in full swing, her brother Ted, who emigrated to Australia, had gone to fight. He had taken a bullet in Gallipoli and was now languishing in the military hospital in Sydney.
Her image stared back at her in the mirror, and she began a soliloquy out loud.
“Don’t be so morose Ivy, you’re 18 and it’s the weekend!”
The words broadened her smile. “Yes, you heard right. It’s Saturday!” She did a little jig of happiness.
Her mother, Hannah, called out from downstairs, “Who on earth are you talking to, Ivy?”
“Just myself Mam, just myself.”
On weekdays, she worked with her mother, Hannah Jenkins, as a tailoress, making uniforms for the Ministry of War. Ivy wanted to be a full-time violinist and lamented the humdrum of the life she was living. “One day you will be a professional violinist.” She whispered to her reflection. Thankfully, the weekends were her time of freedom. Today she was off to the University of Sheffield to practise with their new orchestra. It was more of a chamber orchestra than a symphony orchestra and its members were like her, gifted locals with aspirations.
“Mam, I’m off to orchestra practice. I’ll be back at teatime.”
“Don’t you go on your own, Ivy,” her mam called out.
“It’s alright, I’m travelling with Archie.”
“And don’t forget your tram fare,” she called out again.
“No, Mam.”
She looked to the heavens. Well, it’s not exactly a lie. I have my tram fare, but I have allocated the money to a new bow. And ... Ted has left his bicycle behind. So, you see, I’ll be putting it to good use, for a good cause.
As she waved goodbye, her older sister Beatrice scowled.
Ivy felt her thoughts veering to the unkind. Oh, here we go, Mademoiselle Grumpy. Just because her beau is fighting in France. Does she have to be so bossy, Lord?
“You make sure you’re back to help with tea, Ivy. Dad is doing an extra shift at the works today. He’ll be tired.” Beatrice had a way of stealing Ivy’s joy and making her tense and on edge. The only thing they had in common was they both worked with their mother as fledgling seamstresses. But neither one wanted to do it. Beatrice was also inclined for a change in career. She just wasn’t sure what yet.
