The Temple (4 page)

“We are gathered here today,”
Jeremiah said in a calm voice, “not only because we want to drivel,
not only because we want to listen to drivel or even read from ‘The
Holy Dryvel’. No my dear friends, my beloved Dryvellers, we are
here for a higher purpose than even all that!”

Stupefied at the thought the
congregation looked at Jeremiah agog.

Jeremiah pushed the sacred top
hat slightly to the side of his head and then placed his hands on
his hips. Arms akimbo he looked at the congregation full of
determination.

“Some of you,” he said, “have
asked me for help. They have asked me to intercede with our Lord in
some very personal and serious matters. It is not a thing lightly
done and I can assure you all that I personally made sure what I
was being asked for were just requests.” He paused briefly and then
held out his right hand towards one of the side entrances.

“Bring in the supplicant,” he
called.

All eyes turned toward the door.
Moments later a young woman in a wheelchair entered the hall. She
pushed the wheels with her hands and very slowly made her way
through the crowd towards Jeremiah.

“Make way, brethren, make way
for this unfortunate young woman,” Jeremiah said.

“Now then,” Jeremiah said when
she reached him, will you tell our congregation your name and why
it is you are thus afflicted?”

She nodded. “My name’s Fraudula.
I’m twenty-one years old and I come from a good Dryveller
family.”

A round of applause welcomed
her.

“Thank you. I don’t know what to
say, I’m so overcome. She began to cry and Jeremiah patted her on
the shoulder to comfort her.

“You’re amongst friends here,
Fraudula. Will you tell us what happened to you.”

She wiped her nose with a tissue
and went on. “When I was nine years old I lived as a happy girl
with my loving Dryveller parents. But not everyone loved us. There
were people whose hearts were filled with hate against us because
of our beliefs.” Again she burst into tears and angry shouts rang
our from the crowd.

“Then one day,” she sobbed, “I
was standing at the bus stop when someone pushed me in front of the
bus. A man pushed me because I was a Dryveller!”

The hall was in uproar.

“Calm, my brethren!” Jeremiah
shouted. “Becalm yourselves I pray you.”

When the tumult had subsided
Fraudula went on.

“The bus hit me and I was taken
to hospital. The doctors saved my life, but what kind of life did
they save for me? I am paralysed hip down, bound to a wheelchair,
unable to walk and run and swim with my friends, unable to meet
someone I love and have a family of my own. What kind of life is
this? Did I deserve this simply because I am a Dryveller?”

Again there was uproar.
Dryvellers jumped to their feet and shouted in fury.

“Nay, nay,” Jeremiah shouted.
“Becalm your wrath I pray you. Let us not be blinded by anger. We
are here for something much more important.”

Gradually the noise subsided and
the Dryvellers took their seats again.

“My dear fellow Dryvellers,”
Jeremiah said. “We are here today, on this most auspicious Monday,
to unite in prayer for this unfortunate young woman. Poor Fraudula,
who has not been able to do many of the things we all take for
granted since she was an innocent little nine year old girl. I ask
you all to follow me and kowtow while we speak the prayer ‘Have
mercy, oh merciful Lord’.

Jeremiah got to his knees and
kowtowed with the whole congregation following suit. After the
prayer Jeremiah rose to his feet again and placed his right hand on
Fraudula’s head.

“Affliction be gone!” Jeremiah
called out. “Get thee hence vile affliction that hath blighted this
young woman’s life. In the name of the Lord I command thee to
leave.”

Jeremiah looked at Fraudula with
kind eyes. “Thrice did I command, thrice did the Lord aid.
Fraudula, give me your hand. Dare to, Fraudula, dare to move your
foot.”

Slowly, ever so slowly her left
leg moved forward, then her right. Jeremiah took firm hold of both
her hands and pulled her up. Unsteady and wobbly on her feet
Fraudula looked at her legs with wide open eyes. Jeremiah pulled
her gently and she took a step forward, then another and
another.

“A miracle!” Jeremiah exclaimed.
“A miracle from God, my brethren. A true miracle in our day and
age. Behold the power of our Lord!”

A jubilant cheer rang through
the hall with the entire congregation jumping to their feet and
applauding wildly.

While Jeremiah called on
everyone to give thanks to the Lord, black cloth bags suddenly
appeared again and this time the collection was silent as the bags
passed through the crowd. Jeremiah smiled happily.

Thinner and lighter wallets were
put back into their owners’ pockets quite easily. Bursting full
black bags were carried away and when everyone looked to Jeremiah
again Fraudula had vanished.

“My dear fellow Dryvellers,”
Jeremiah said after a while. “Truly, it warms the heart to think
that Fraudula can go back to living a life again. But I must ask
you now to focus your attention on another task for there is more
work to be done.”

Once again he held out his arm
to the door where Fraudula had appeared. “Let the supplicant
enter!”

There was absolute silence in
the hall. Then a quiet tap, tap, tap sound heralded the arrival of
the next supplicant. A man wearing a black suit and tie appeared.
His eyes were concealed by very dark sunglasses and in his left
hand he held a long white stick that made the tapping sound as he
carefully made his way forward. A woman stood up and helped him
walk over to Jeremiah.

“Thanks,” he said and turned to
Jeremiah.

Jeremiah took his hand. “Welcome
to our temple. We have just been witness to the most incredible
thing and I have a great feeling. I really have a feeling that
we’ll be able to help you. Can you tell us your name.”

“Mendax, my name’s Mendax and
I’m thirty-four years old.”

“I see you are blind, is that
right?”

“Yes, I’ve been blind since I
was a little baby.”

“That’s terrible. Were you born
blind?”

“No, I was quite healthy at my
birth, but I had the misfortune to be born in Syldavia. As you may
know the life we Dryvellers face in Syldavia is not an easy
one.”

“Can you tell us something about
it?”

“It can be dangerous to profess
our faith openly. Simple things such as going to a restaurant can
be life threatening. We can’t even drivel at the table before a
meal without the risk of an anti-Dryveller riot.”

“I see,” Jeremiah said. “That’s
shocking, dreadful, terrible. And what happened to you? Surely an
innocent baby would not be the target of even a rabid mob?”

“Ah, if only it had been an
angry mob!” Mendax shook his head and then buried his face in his
hands.

Jeremiah put his arm around
Mendax’s shoulders to comfort him. The congregation was quiet. Many
Dryvellers covered their mouths with their hands horrified at the
suffering of other Dryvellers and poor Mendax in particular.

“I’m sorry,” Mendax said. “I’m
just so overcome with emotion to be standing here in a free country
at last where I may drivel without risking my life.”

There was an outburst of
cheering and applause.

“We understand,” Jeremiah said.
“Can you tell us now what happened to you, why you are blind?”

“As a six month old baby I got a
serious eye infection. Conditions in Syldavia are not always
hygienic and it is a common enough ailment that is easily treated.
But when the doctors at the hospital discovered that my family were
Dryvellers, they turned us out and refused to help.”

Raucous shouting interrupted
Mendax and Jeremiah had to raise his arms and repeatedly call for
calm.

“By the time my parents found a
private doctor, who was willing to treat me in spite of our
beliefs, it was too late. The disease had damaged my eyes to such
an extent that I was blind for life.”

“Did you ask for help when you
managed to come to this country?”

“That I did, but the doctors at
the hospital told me there was nothing they could do.”

“My brethren,” Jeremiah called
out. “I ask you, is not the case of poor Mendax here worthy of our
help? Shall we not help him and intercede with the Lord on his
behalf?”

Loud cheers and calls for a
special prayer came from the crowd.

“I am glad that you all feel
this way. Let us then kowtow once again on this most auspicious and
propitious Monday night, the night of a full moon, and speak the
prayer ‘Have mercy, oh merciful Lord’.

After the prayer Jeremiah stood
up. He took the sunglasses off Mendax and placed his hand over his
eyes.

“Affliction be gone!” Jeremiah
called out. “Get thee hence vile affliction that hath blighted this
man’s life. In the name of the Lord I command thee to leave.”

Jeremiah looked at Mendax with
gleaming eyes. “Thrice did I command, thrice did the Lord aid.
Mendax, my friend, open your eyes. Dare to open your eyes and you
shall see what you see.”

Mendax slowly opened first one
eye and then the other. There was a look of shock on his face.

Jeremiah held out four fingers
in front of Mendax’s face. “How many fingers do you see?”

“I can see,” Mendax called.
“It’s incredible. I can see. There are four fingers, Jeremiah. Oh,
the Lord be blessed thrice over. I can see!”

Ear deafening cheers filled the
grand hall while black cloth bags quickly appeared yet again. They
were filled with what money was left to be found in wallets and
pockets as well as a large number of cheques made payable to the
Dryvellers’ Temple.

It was a joyous evening that
Dryvellers would speak of for years to come. And it was a great
personal success for Master Jeremiah who had put so much hard work
and effort into preparing everything.

After the last Dryveller had
left and the doors were securely closed Jeremiah went to the back
exit where Fraudula and Mendax were waiting for him.

“Excellent work, you two,”
Jeremiah said with a satisfied smile. “A pity this sort of thing
only works once or your careers would be a sure thing with me.”

The two actors sniggered and
Jeremiah paid them a thousand in hard currency each. He also threw
in two plane tickets for the same evening to make sure they were
out of town and far away for good.

The Posters

The only time an unjust man

will scream against
injustice

is when he is afraid someone

will practise it on him.

Plato, The Republic

The following day everyone in
the temple felt elated. Breakfast was an even more cheerful affair
than usual and there was no end of talk about the undeniable fact
that the Lord had blessed their community with two miracles.

“Come, Sycko,” Jeremiah said
after breakfast. “Let’s go and talk.”

They went to the grand hall and
sat in the middle. Jeremiah put the sacred top hat on the floor
between them. The shiny black hat contrasted beautifully with the
white square it was on.

“Now then, Sycko,” Jeremiah said
with a smile, “you have been with us as a novice for some time and
you have made excellent progress, indeed I would say most excellent
progress. There are, however, a few more things before you will be
accepted as a full brother in our holy fraternity. Take this holy
top hat for example. What does it mean to you?”

“Well, I’m not sure it means
anything to me,” Sycko said with a blank expression on his face. “I
guess it’s black and shiny.”

“Ah yes, quite right, how very
clever of you. There is more to it though, than at first meets the
eye. It could be said that by wearing this top hat the wearer’s
head acquires a loftier position thus being brought into closer
proximity to the divine.”

Sycko looked doubtful. “You mean
if I wear it I’m closer to God?”

“Yes, yes, very good my friend.
Now what I want you to do this morning is to take this top hat for
a perambulation in the park and to reflect upon the divine in this
hat.”

“A what?”

Ah, a perambulation, it means a
walk. Go for a walk in the park and think about the hat and God.
That’s simple enough, isn’t it?

“Oh sure, can I smoke while I’m
enjoying the fresh air?”

“Yes, of course you may. One
last thing, however. Do make sure you perambulate in a
distinguished manner. An erect bearing and noble gait becoming of
the sacred top hat are essential. You do follow, don’t you?”

“Yes, that sounds simple
enough.”

“Very well, then. I’ll see you
later.”

Sycko donned the top hat and
wended his way to the nearby park. He looked at himself admiringly
in the water and decided that together with his black suit and tie
the top hat made him look most distinguished. It was a rather
pleasant sensation he would not have thought himself possible of
just a few weeks before when he used to wear ragged jeans and old
T-shirts. He walked as upright as he could and drew some quizzical
glances from others in the park. He put a fag in the corner of his
mouth and slowly wandered around trying to think about the
connection of top hat and God. He failed miserably.

“Oh what the heck,” he said to
no one in particular. “This sure beats standing in a shop and
working. And if I keep walking and smoking a divine inspiration
will surely come to me.”

But if there was any divine
intervention it came in a form very different from what he had
expected or hoped for.

“Hey, Sycko, is that you?” a
voice called from behind.

Sycko turned and found himself
face to face with Judas.

“What the fuck happened to you,
man?” Judas said. “What are you wearing that stuff for? You robbed
a bank or something?”