─ Chapter Two ─ The Library

Over the rooftop sails Billy

A string tied to his underwear

Through cobbled stone streets a child races

And shouts "Billy, come down from there!"

"My mother's calling!”, his voice whimpers

A string clutched in his tiny hand

"Not til' I've seen the sky's not lit up

In tears, child try and understand

Don't pull the string, don't bring me down

Don't make me land!"

Plastic palace people

Sing silent songs, they dream too long

Their memories just stare

Plastic palace Alice

She steals the cards tomorrow deals

With deafening despair

Hurry, you've got to get in line

Your nose might start to shine

And sweat it out and dance about

The whole eternal life

A harvest of stars surrounds Billy

The night clings to his happy eyes

Asleep in town square, beneath a fountain

A child murmurs a weary sigh

My mother weeps, and weaves her hair

With worries, "Please, come down from there"

Plastic palace people

Through fields of clay and granite grey

They play without a sound

Plastic palace Alice

Blows gaping holes to store her fears

Inside her lover’s head

Listen, they're laughing in the halls

They rip your face with lies

To buzzing eyes you cry for help

Like gods they bark replies

Over the rooftops burns Billy

Balloon sadly the string descends

Searching its way down through blue submarine air

The polka dot underwear

To meet the trees, in morning square

Just hanging there, just hanging there 

       Callum Clayton-Cumberbatch lay on his bed listening intently, for the seventh time, to Scott Walker’s lyrics, released eleven years ago. The orchestral arrangement induces a dream-like state in him as the themes swirled around him in a hazy vortex. The song always made him cry. This time his tears welled from a deeper inner place. This morning it was his way of releasing his suppressed emotions from the previous night – his visit to plastic palace people. He relished the mood it created in him. His top-of-the-range Walkman had been his faithful companion throughout his travels all over Europe to study labyrinths in cathedrals, on top of mountains, on village greens and in all types of ancient buildings. Had it not been for his family’s faithful butler, Charles, he may never have followed his dreams or escaped the superficial love of his very rich but emotionally disabled parents.
       His room at Castlethorpe was in what students had nicknamed The Monastery, a modern square building in a far corner of the grounds shielded by willow trees. Each room was soundproofed. They were large and well-equipped with a separate kitchen/diner/lounge and en-suite shower in the bedroom. Large windows provided lovely views across the fields and all could be completely blacked out, no matter how bright the sun or moon happened to be. There were five rooms on each side of the building. A glass-covered internal walkway provided access to the rear door of each room. Four doors led from this to a communal square courtyard in the centre. A low square stone wall with four entrances crated a central meeting area and four oak benches formed yet another square looking inwards to a small futuristic water feature. The aroma from various herbs growing in stone pots within the wall created a calm atmosphere.

       Callum liked to binge on Scott Walker and with no possibility of being disturbed his reverie with Plastic Palace continued in his cocoon of complete darkness. He began to feel a little better but last night’s news had left its mark on his mind and heart. After a while he put his Walkman away, raised the blinds and opened the windows, breathing in the fresh morning air. The sound of the birds and distant tractors gradually brought him into the present and he remembered he had an important meeting in the library with Val. It is difficult to say what his favourite building at the College was. Each one had its own character, attractions and mysteries. The Manor House reminded him of his family home, if you could call it that, Childwickbury Manor, that was only a mile away. Castlethorpe’s Manor House was warm and inviting in stark contrast to the austere, meticulously kept “museum” of Childwickbury. He was so pleased to have got a room in The Monastery and revelled in the monk jokes that fellow students were often cracking. He gathered some research papers from his desk and set off to the library. 

* 

       In one of the cottages within the grounds Valerie Heyes was just finishing her breakfast of organic eggs, wholemeal bread and orange marmalade that she had made herself a while ago and some freshly brewed coffee from Costa Rica. She was a fan of BBC’s Today programme on Radio Four that took over from the Home Service twelve years ago. She was a long way from home in Holsworthy, Devon though she did not particularly miss it. Since her arrival eighteen months ago she had experienced deep joy, love and had many psychic adventures. There were several students who she fancied but her studies were her priority. She often recalled the moment when Eleanor Goodheart told her that she had a fully funded place for at least three years. There was no way that she or her family could have afforded the annual fees. She was not quite ready to leave when Callum knocked on the door.

       In one of the side rooms of the library Leonard Blessit sat reading a rather heavy tome entitled “Myth and Christianity”. He was struggling to make sense of the chapter headed “Jesus Christ Was Not God” with one leg dangled over the arm of the red leather chair, the other resting on a small oak table. His mind wandered away from Rudolf Bultmann’s rather dull and unconvincing argument to him leading a Young People’s Fellowship Group (YPF) at the Methodist church near Dundee that he had attended since Anchor Boys. Their questions about Christianity challenged him to the core. He was unsure what he really believed. If Bultmann was right then Christianity’s claims of atonement were false. There was an old lady he loved to talk to at the church, Mrs Reynolds, whose eyes shone brighter as her body weakened. She never gave advice but through their conversation a hunger gradually gnawed at his soul for deeper things. He replaced the book, turned and glanced out of the paned window to see Callum and Val approaching one of the many entrances to the Manor House.

       In 1979 Castlethorpe was one of the few places in England that was totally wheelchair accessible. The adaptions that had been made were designed and made specially for the College and it meant that Sarah could participate fully as a differently-abled person. Her crowning glory was winning a silver medal at the Paralympics in Toronto in 1976. Had someone not coughed in the crowd, just as shot her final arrow, it may have been gold. A shoulder injury last year probably put an end to competing at the highest level though she enjoyed coaching students in longbow archery in the College grounds. She has been at Castlethorpe for nearly three years. Her best friend had encouraged her to apply as they ate hot dogs overlooking Tower Bridge. The clincher was her aunt who said to her in a soft but commanding exhortation ‘Go girl’.

       Sarah had had two miscarriages many years ago and people at church said ‘Honey, perhaps de Lord don’t want you to have babies.’ She became a sister at Guys Hospital and loved her job. Her dad did not go to church. Sarah had many friends from different backgrounds. She had experienced racism first-hand. She went to a mosque, a synagogue, a Gurdwara where she had a meal in the Langar, sitting on the floor. She loved all the festivals though not keen on the idea of fasting during Ramadan. Her favourite church was the local Catholic church and she fell in love with Mary, the “Mother of God”. All the leaders in religions seemed to be men. They were in the Catholic  Church but the focus of worship was more on Mary than a male god. ‘About time too’ she thought. Her wheelchair made almost no sound on the floor as she approached a door halfway down the library. She wheeled herself in and the door closed softly behind her. This was one of two restricted sections that were Sarah’s passion.

 * 

       The library was remarkable in every way. It was about sixty yards long and twenty five yards wide. It had attained these vast dimensions by two major extensions; one in 1954, the second completed in 1975. These were so well done and the stones procured were almost identical to those used in the original library. It protruded from the main building, one side looked out to uncultivated fields, the other to a dense wood with many paths.

       There was one commonly-known entrance to the library. A librarian was always available, twenty four hours a day, three hundred and sixty five days a year. There were twenty five librarians who worked according to an indecipherable work pattern. At any one time one or two of them would be away looking for new books and other material to add to the collection. They were frequently in and out of the restricted sections and gave instruction to students about how to handle its rare items. Wearing special cotton gloves is a myth. They reduce dexterity and can cause damage. The best way is to handle them is clean, dry hands and rest items on an appropriate stand depending on their size and shape. The library has a variety of wooden book stands for this purpose with robust rubber feet to avoid noise and prevent marks on the tables. Although there are no rules all students and staff demonstrate immense respect for the library and never take food or drink in and, if necessary, simply whisper to each other in the main shelving area.

       A few students are convinced the library is a sentient being. Their evidence for this claim is that books seem to move on their own between sections and audible sighs and a low hum can be discerned, particularly during the night. The librarians neither confirm or deny these stories though they do move books around from time to time themselves for good reasons. The main shelving area occupied the length of the building. At the end was large bay window with deep blue and gold patterned curtains and fine wooden blinds, all of which could be controlled electronically depending on the time of day and position of the sun. All areas of the library were kept at a constant temperature that was just comfortable without being too warm or too cool, whatever the weather was doing. Seven single wooden chairs looked out from the bay window towards the wood. The seat pads were covered with the same patterned material as the curtains. The legs of all chairs in the library have a special hard rubber pad fixed to them that they make no noise when moved and do not slide on the floor when a user is sitting. In addition to the temperature the lighting and humidity conditions were also maintained by a sophisticated system that the librarians carefully monitored.

       If you were to walk into this library it’s light but not bright. You would see seven huge oak tables stretching out before you in the middle of the room all the way towards the bay window. There are seven chairs, the same as in the bay window, on either side of each table. There is a large gap between each table. The shelves lining the walls each side of the table and are divided into sections matching the lengths of the tables. In six of the gaps is large wooden door that leads into a sound-proofed room. There are ten of these square rooms and two larger square rooms near the middle of the library. Each of the ten rooms contains four comfortable chairs, a large square table in the middle with four chairs, like the ones in the bay window, around them. Each room has a large window with blinds and curtains, similar to the bay window. Above the doors paintings, images and items are displayed that are changed frequently by the librarians. Many students open the entrance door for the first time and are totally overwhelmed by its rich warm beauty. Although grand it is not forbidding. It shines its treasures at you. It welcomes and beckons you to explore; to drink and dig its depths. It invites all who enter to experience the joy of discovery and to immerse themselves in the sea of living words and images.

       As you walk in you notice is that your footsteps make almost no noise. A special coating has been applied to the wooden floor based on an ancient alchemical formula which can be found in several texts of the restricted section. It simply muffles sound and it means that no carpet has to be laid. It feels almost soft to touch yet the wood is very hard and has a slight non-reflective sheen. Sarah was surprised when she first went in; she said it was like gliding without being at all slippery. Usually the wheels of her wheelchair made all sorts of squeaky noises on wooden floors but not in Castlethorpe’s library.

       Large slightly opaque glass globes were suspended from the centre of the ceiling all the way to the bay window. The light and vertical position of each could be controlled electronically separately or all at once. Some mischievous students and staff experiment with the controls from time to time, just for fun, to create different moods. On closer inspection each globe has a different pattern of symbols and images etched into it. There is a learning session available, ten of two hours each, on the meaning of these that has become very popular over the years. Some students like to share their knowledge about these with new arrivals though, of course, there are many different interpretations.

       The shelving system is a marvel. Each section is the width of a table and stretched from about two feet from the floor to two feet from the ceiling. There are no ladders. Sarah can access any book or other item from any shelf in the main and restricted sections. How is this possible? To the right of each shelf on a panel next to the doors of the rooms are two wooden looking buttons with a thin arrow painted in gold on each – one pointing up, the other down. Pressing either rotates the entire shelf. The ingenious mechanism is controlled electronically with a manual alternative in case of a cut in the power supply (comes in handy during 1979’s “Winter of discontent”). It is so smooth yet powerful that it makes almost no noise. There will probably never be a need to extend the library because each shelving unit rotates into a basement area and new shelves can be added as necessary. This would extend the distance that each unit would travel through the basement. The basement area is where the librarians maintain all the books and other items and do their painstaking work without interrupting library users. The system was designed by a brilliant engineer from Wellington in New Zealand and was fitted during the second extension in 1975.

       As you know the unusual classification system was created by a Russian student in 1915. It is impossible to describe the intricacies of it here, enough to say that each subject is painted in gold on thin strips of wood. To the right of the up and down arrows, about four feet from the floor, is list of all the subjects that are available in each section. This varies in number from section to section. To the right is a narrow indented vertical panel with a horizontal arrow painted in gold pointing to the left. When the up or down button is pressed the shelf rotates and the arrow moves up or down the list of subjects allowing a user to locate the section they are looking for. Each shelf can be subdivided and these subdivisions are described briefly by a brown card embossed with gold text that is inserted into a moveable brass holder. This allows for flexibility as new items are added and unwanted items removed to the archive.

       Each book or item is placed on the shelf with a moveable rigid plastic divider to its right. In this divider a borrowing card with a description of the item can be easily removed. It has several sections so that people know who is currently using it if it is not there, an indication when it will be returned and space for people to write their names who would like to use it next. Compared to the moving shelves the borrowing card is low technical solution that has worked with great efficiency for over sixty years.

       The two restricted sections either side are accessed through doors that are in line with the fourth table, slightly beyond the centre of the library. They are exactly double the size of the other ten rooms, sound-proofed with a larger square table in the middle with eight chairs, two on each side. In the middle of the table were several oak book stands of various sizes and shapes so that rare books could be read without damaging their delicate spines. There are eight comfortable chairs around the room with small tables to place items. The shelving is slightly narrower than in the main library but is operated in the same way and with the moving subject index alongside each section.

       Sarah approached one of the shelves and pressed the up arrow to reveal “First Signed Editions”. Oliver, one of the librarians, had informed Sarah last week about a new addition, Clive Staples’ Narnia Chronicles that would be added by the weekend. The shelf came to a soft halt and Sarah took out a large leather-covered presentation wooden box containing all seven volumes. The black leather spines were all embossed with their title in gold leaf. She placed it carefully on her lap and turned to the big table. She placed it gently on one of the square blue and gold reading mats and stared at it in almost a trance-like state.

       On the top of the box was the heraldic shield of Magdalen, Lewis’ college at Oxford. It was presented to him many years later when the Chronicles started to become increasingly popular with adults as well as children. She checked her hands were clean and dry then gently removed the second volume “The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe”. It was not her favourite in the series but she had a specific purpose today. She wanted to know if the rumours were true about Lewis’ note that was reported to have been written by him next to Aslan’s famous speech. This was when he came back to life after the White Witch had murdered him as he lay, willingly helpless, muzzled and secured with cords, on the stone table. Lewis did not actually describe the killing of Aslan but the deed was done with a stony knife and Sarah had always imagined it was thrust into his heart. Susan asks a profound question to Aslan when she starts to calm down following her and Lucy’s emotional reunion with their beloved lion.

       ‘But what does it all mean’

       “It means,’ said Aslan, ‘that though the Witch knew the Deep Magic, there is a magic deeper still which she did not know. Her knowledge goes back only to the dawn of Time. But if she could have looked a little further back, into the stillness and the darkness before Time dawned, she would have read there a different incantation. She would have known that when a willing victim who had committed no treachery was killed in a traitor's stead, the Table would crack and Death itself would start working backwards.”

       There by the side in soft pencil was a note saying “Readers will no doubt think this is the story of the resurrection of Jesus Christ. Yes, there are similarities, but my point was not about an event that is central to Christian doctrine, it was to alert readers to the reality of magic that has become so obscured in our modern culture. Perhaps deep truths and magic must be hidden and only revealed to those whose intentions are pure. The power of magic is extraordinary. I have used it myself a little. Oh that we may dig deep and fathom a way to unlock great secrets and mysteries that will help humanity to evolve. Instead we tear each other apart and focus on right doctrine rather than real experience.”

       Sarah reached for her bag and took out an envelope that had a faded address on the front. She took out a letter and placed it next to the note she had just read. Her heart beat faster. ‘This is definitely C.S. Lewis’ note!’ She gasped with excitement though no-one would have heard her. Leaving everything where it was she turned and made her way back to the entrance to the library to find Oliver. Oliver looked up to see Sarah’s beaming smile.

       ‘It’s true. The comment is definitely Lewis’!’

       ‘Are you sure?’

       ‘Absolutely.’

       ‘How?’

       ‘Come, let me show you.’

       They entered the library ahead of Callum and Val who had just walked around the corner.

       ‘See, this is a letter sent by Lewis to J.R.R. Tolkien, his friend (some say frenemy) about their mutual dislike of Walt Disney. I bought this up in an auction for ten pounds several years ago and it has this seal of authenticity on the back... see.’

       Oliver picked up the letter, examined the seal on the back, then compared the letter with the note in the book.

       ‘Yes, you are absolutely right. What a discovery! How did you know where the note was written in this volume?’

       ‘Magic!’

Oliver looked at Sarah with fondness and admiration.

       ‘Okay, I guess its time to bring all this to the next learning session on Narnia and Magic. I think I’m teaching it next Saturday. Care to co-teach it with me?’

       ‘You bet.’

       ‘I better go, we’re expecting some Chinese visitors shortly and I’m their guide.’

       ‘Oliver.’

       ‘Yes?’

       ‘It’s nothing.’

       ‘Come on Sarah, I know you better than that.’

       ‘It’s just that...’

       ‘What is it?’

       ‘Magic is in the heart, not the mind.’

       ‘Of course it is’ he replied with a disingenuous smile. They were poles apart on this yet so close in other respects.

       He left and Sarah re-read the letter, pondered on Lewis’ note and absorbed herself in the rest of the book undisturbed until lunch. She would discover other gems that morning that confirmed her suspicions about the Oxford don.

       Callum and Val settled themselves in their favourite room in the library, on the right hand side next to the bay window. Above the door hung a large print of a labyrinth in Cormerod, Switzerland; a representation of a Roman floor mosaic.

       ‘Do you think they put the Cormerod labyrinth up just for me?’

       ‘More than likely’ replied Val. ‘You’ve been a bit odd this morning – not your usual self. Is everything okay?’

       ‘I had dinner with my parents last night, it was a bloody nightmare!’

       ‘What happened?’

       ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

       ‘C’mon, I can see its eating you up.’

       ‘You really wanna know?’

       ‘Yes, I do.’

       ‘I arrived a few minutes early; you know how punctual everything and everybody must be. My father opened the door which shocked me. Everything was fine to start with, mother flowed down the staircase dressed as she was going to a state dinner and hugged me as though I was the prodigal son. My eldest sister and younger brother appeared from the drawing room as though they were in a play and had just got their cue to enter. Charles, my best friend and family butler was nowhere to be seen. Dinner was obviously an external catering affair, as were the waiting staff. The food was actually delicious and distracted me from the small talk, false smiles and banal commentary about the moral decline in rural communities and an increasing deficit of manners in young people. Father droned on about his latest investments and acquisitions and how the Labour party had no idea about business. He said that Margaret Thatcher was the best thing that had happened to Britain since she beat Heath four years ago and was already making a huge positive difference since becoming Prime Minister on the forth of May. I hated it all but managed to get through dinner.

       ‘How was your brother?’

       ‘Funny you ask, he was... very different. His nervous twitch had disappeared. He seemed more calm and confident. He smiled at me several times when father was in full flow and, unbeknown to others, rolled his eyes at the pointlessness of it all. I noticed a small black badge on his blazer lapel with a white upside down Y on it. Father glanced at him it at one point and frowned but made no comment.’

       ‘Do you know what that badge means?’

       ‘No.’

       ‘Did, by any chance, the upside down Y have another downward line from its apex?’

       ‘Er... come to think of it, yes.’

       ‘It’s the symbol of the Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament.’

       ‘Gosh, I had no idea he was that way inclined.’

       ‘My aunt joined CND a few years ago. She was inspired by the women who joined the 1958 protest march to the nuclear bomb factory at Aldermaston in Berkshire.’

       ‘Anyway, after dinner my brother and sister managed to slip away somewhere and I was back in the drawing room with mother and father. My father almost stood to attention by the large fireplace, one arm behind his back, the other holding a disgustingly smelly cigar – he must have thought he was still in the army. Without any preamble he said “We’ve had to let Charles go.” Total bombshell! You know what Charles meant to me. He didn’t want to talk about it but I would not let him get away with one curt sentence. Bit by bit he reluctantly revealed what had happened, at least according to him. Charles had been assisting my father with some investment deal or other. My father claims that Charles made some major errors that resulted in the deal not going through and my father losing a lot of money. Charles had worked for our family for over forty years and I could not believe that he would make that kind of mistake. He was meticulously careful in everything he did. I was enraged, not just by terrible news but by the smirk on my father’s face. My mother, as always, remained indifferent and was preoccupied with pulling a loose piece of thread from her dress.

       I was enraged and, without a word left and walked back here, stopping on the way to telephone a friend who works in an investment bank in the City. It was true that Charles had assisted my father and while doing so he uncovered an insider dealing operation that was spearheaded by my father and several other venture capitalists. Of course, they had covered their tracks extremely well and it would have been almost impossible to trace any illegal activity back to them but my father made one fatal mistake. He asked Charles for assistance and he smelt a rat early on. Gradually he secretly photocopied some damming documents and handed them over to the police in a comprehensive and damming dossier. When the police started asking questions my father knew it must have been Charles who had alerted them. He sacked him straight away. That is about as much as I know. I hope to hear from Charles soon. I’m so angry Val, I don’t know what to do with myself!’
       ‘Blimey, how awful.’

       ‘Val gave him a hug.’

Callum got up and opened the window; as he did he could see Folina walking towards the Manor House. He paused and then sat down again. They didn’t talk for a while before Val broke the silence.

       ‘Do you want to talk labyrinths or shall we leave it for today? You have had a bloody awful time.’

       ‘That’s one very good reason why we must talk labyrinths Val. Come to think of it let’s not talk about them, let’s go and walk them. I was going to show you some of the drawings I did during my labyrinth studies throughout Europe but that can wait.’

       The door opened and Folina entered the room.

       ‘Hi you two. What’s new? Are you okay Callum you look a bit peaky, is that the right word. You know me and my idioms?’

       ‘It is but no I’m fine, just needed a little more sleep than I got last night.’

       ‘Don’t forget that you and I have session five on Human Physicality: Fragility and Impermanence this afternoon with Dr Zimmer.’

       ‘That’s a bit of a mouthful, what’s that about?’ asked Val.

       ‘Oh, it’s absolutely fascinating,’ replied Folina, I’m completely hooked. Look at this book that Dr Zimmer suggested we have a look at. Its crammed with information, photographs and extraordinary diagrams. Studying this subject has transformed the way I perceive our physical frames. I now look at people through the eyes of a mechanical engineer. Doctors from Asia, like all doctors should – though the majority don’t – start their diagnosis of patients from a distance and study how people move and hold themselves. Other diagnostic methods usually prove their initial assessment right.’

       Val wanted to stay and ask questions. She loved Folina’s inexhaustible curiosity but sensed that Callum wanted to leave so they did. Folina placed the large book on the table and immersed herself in a chapter headed “Skeletal Mechanics in the Human Form”.

       Val and Callum passed Oliver leading a group of eight Chinese visitors quietly down the left-side isle. The visitors looked somewhat overwhelmed by the library and were busy trying to capture its essence photographically. One of the visitors bowed slightly towards them as they left. They bowed back then left the Manor House by one of the rear exits and made their way towards the Labyrinth.

*

       ‘Val, I have to tell you something.’

       ‘What is it?’

       ‘I’m in love with Folina.’

       ‘What!?’

       ‘I was smitten the first time I met her a few months ago. Her long dark hair. Those deep and piercing brown eyes. She moves... she moves like... like an angel. She is shrouded in mystery and I’m convinced has magical powers that we thought were lost centuries ago. When my father was ranting away last night I imagined her sitting next to me, stroking my hair. I felt so calm.’

       ‘You saw her approach from the window didn’t you?’

       ‘How do you know?’

       ‘By the look on your face when you sat down. Your very peaky face had got some of its glow back sweetheart!’

       ‘You don’t miss a thing do you.’

       ‘Oh I miss plenty Callum but I have known this for some time. Don’t forget, I can see people’s auras and have often noticed a deepening purple in yours when you are near Folina.’

       ‘What do I do?’

       ‘Callum, she’s married.’

       ‘Yes, but is she happy with Carlos?’

       ‘I think so.’

       ‘Then why does he hardly ever join us in College events?’

       ‘He has a very demanding new job in London.’

       ‘I know but I can’t help how I feel.’

       ‘I’m sure you can’t. It’s what you do about it that matters.’

       ‘Should I tell her how I feel?’

       ‘Relationship advice is not my strong point.’

       ‘Am I dominating conversation today?’

       ‘Look Callum, I’m your friend, its absolutely fine that we have talked a lot about you... really. I have a hunch we’ve not finished yet.’

       Some clouds decided to shield Castlethorpe for a while from the midday sun. They approached the Labyrinth and stood silently for about five minutes.

       ‘Let’s start,’ said Val. She took Callum’s hand as they set off along the pathway.

       ‘Wow, there is some powerful energy about today! Do you sense it Val? It’s like there is a large dome of energy extending completely over the Labyrinth – a silvery, whitish dome.’

       ‘No but your aura turned an amazing colour as our feet touched the pathway.’

       ‘Brilliant. Our first step. It usually takes a while before it speaks. It’s all about protection. That’s what it seeks to teach us today. My sense is that the lesson will go very deep into both of us.’

       ‘I’m ready’, replied Val.

       Their walk in and out took just over fifty minutes. They paused often. A smaller dome of energy covered them throughout their exploratory passage. The need for protection did not outweigh taking risks in Spirit. The protection was both individual and for the community. They each experienced a warm sensation that pulsated through their bodies making their skin tingle. When they reached the centre they stopped. As they did a lightening shaft of blinding energy descended on them. They both knew it was an angelic being. “I am Befawn, Prince of Another Realm.” If anyone had been passing they would have noticed nothing unusual about. They would have seen two students in the centre of the labyrinth looking towards the sky.

       Val and Callum had been drawn into an experience they would never forget. The memory was to some degree in their mind but much more rooted in the core of their souls. They had true communion. When they came back to the present the dome covering them both and the other enveloping the whole labyrinth were still present but sparkled with an effervescent shimmer that was indescribable. They felt as though many hours had past; Callum looked at his watch.’

       ‘Its only twelve thirty-five, how is that possible.’

       ‘With Spirit, all things are possible.’

       ‘You are wise woman Val.’

       ‘Are you hungry?’

       ‘Yes, more than I have been for days. I think the chef is serving up one of her vegetable specials. Shall we make a move?’

       Walking out of labyrinths can often be more intense than going in. Not this time. They walked relatively slowly but reached the exit in twenty minutes. The domes dissipated with what Callum swore was an audible “ting” as they reached the edge. Warm sunshine greeted them as they joined a growing number of people making their way to The Place of Nourishment. A whole chapter could be devoted to describing this building and how important it is to the Castlethorpe Community. Everyone who is available makes sure they go to lunch, enjoy each other’s company and eat outstandingly healthy food. The kitchen and eating area have been carefully designed like all of Castlethorpe’s buildings. There are many magical and architectural features that we will learn about later at the Seven’s reunions.

*

       Leonard sat down at an almost full circular table and chatted to several people he knew. Hannah Portnoy arrived and sat next to him.

       ‘Hi, I’m Hannah.’

       ‘Hello, I’m Leonard, welcome.

       Leonard liked her immediately and managed to learn some interesting facts about her in a few minutes. This was one of his skills. She had arrived at Castlethorpe a couple of weeks ago. She studied Judaism at Pembroke College, Cambridge obtaining a double first and then a PhD that explored Judaism’s relationship with Israel. She transformed it into a book that sold over seven hundred thousand copies worldwide. He was impressed! Hannah was subject to Herem, a form of excommunication from the Jewish community that also severs all family ties. She continued to meet secretly with her mother and it was her that encouraged her to “get out there and explore other spiritual and religious worlds”. Leonard sensed that she had buried her pain and that she longed for reconciliation.

       After other introductions the food arrived and served by kitchen staff. The smell was mouth-watering. Fresh leafy green vegetables – lightly poached, grains, beans and  Castlethorpe’s special wholemeal bread. The recipe was a closely-guarded secret that pretty well all those with baking skills had managed to extract from the chef. Castlethorpe is not a monastic community yet many had learned the physical and spiritual value of focusing on eating and not talking. Some conversations took place but quietly, respecting those who were eating, slowly... slowly savouring each portion. There was a tangible and all-pervasive intentionality about absorbing wholesome nutrients. The chefs also sat and nourished themselves on the food they had prepared with love. Food grown organically, prepared and served with love and consumed with respectful intention and thankfulness is a supernatural event.

       By five minutes to two everyone had finished. Eleanor Goodheart stood to make a short announcement.

       ‘Next Wednesday at two fifteen in the afternoon in The Gathering Place I shall give a talk followed by a question and response session. Everyone is welcome to attend. This will be followed by afternoon tea in here at about four thirty. Sounds so British doesn’t it (laughter). I understand Chef Dominique will be baking some of his special cakes which I’m sure is much more of a lure than anything that I may say.’

       Nancy’s cakes were out of this world but the real lure was whatever the Principal might say or channel.

       ‘I have enjoyed having lunch with you Hannah.’

       ‘Me too Leonard.’

       ‘Are you going to EG’s talk?’

       ‘Sure am, see you there?’

       ‘Great, perhaps we can have lunch at the same table that day.’

       ‘That would be lovely.’

       ‘See you then.’

Leonard made his way back to his very tidy room in The Monastery. He felt lighter than he had for some months.