40. Isidora-6. Svetodar

Stella and I were silent, being staggered by Isidora’s story to the innermost of our hearts... Of course we were still too small to understand the whole of the meanness, pain and lies which surrounded Isidora. And certainly our child's hearts were too kind and naive to understand the horror of forthcoming ordeals that inevitably awaited Anna and her..., but something was clear even to us, so small and inexperienced. I already understood that everything that was presented as truth did not necessarily mean that it was truth; that in reality it could turn out to be the most barefaced lie for which, and this I found very odd, its inventors neither admitted responsibility nor were punished. People took everything on trust, like it went without saying. For some reason all were quite satisfied with it and nothing turned our world "upside down" in indignation. Nobody was going to look for the guilty. Nobody wanted to prove the truth. Everything was quiet and "windless", as if a dead calm of satisfaction reigned in our hearts without being disturbed by mad "seekers of truth" or the now lethargic human conscience...

Isidora’s sincere and deeply sad story deadened our child's hearts with all-absorbing perpetual pain... It seemed that the inhuman tortures to which the stale souls of beastly executioners subjected this amazing and brave woman would never end! The mere thought of what could await us at the end of her staggering story terrified me.

I looked at Stella. My bellicose friend fearfully pressed close to Anna staring at Isidora with her eyes wide open... Apparently, the human cruelty stunned even her, so brave and uncompromising.

Of course, Stella and I saw much more than other children of 5 and 10 years old. We already knew what loss was and what pain meant, but still we had to live through a lot of things to understand a small part of what Isidora felt! And I hoped that I would never have to know this kind of thing in my own experience.

Spellbound, I looked at this wonderful, brave and amazingly gifted woman, unable to hide my sorrowful tears... How dare "people" call themselves PEOPLE doing such things to her?! How could Earth stand such criminal abomination at all, letting the criminals trample it down and not opening wide its depths and swallowing them?!

Isidora still was far away from us, in her deeply wounding recollections, and to tell the truth I did not want her to continue her story which tormented my child's soul, forcing me to die a hundred times of indignation and pain. I was not ready for it. I did not know how to protect myself from such atrocity... It seemed that if her heart-rending story did not stop at once, I would simply die unable to hear it to the end. It was too cruel and far beyond my child's comprehension...

But Isidora continued to tell, and we had no choice but to join her and dive again into her ruined but so high and pure, unlived LIFE...

The next morning I woke up very late. Apparently the rest which Sever’s touch kindly gave me warmed my tormented heart and allowed me to relax a little to meet the new day with my head proudly lifted, no matter what it would bring... Anna did not answer yet. Obviously Caraffa was firm in his decision to prevent us from communicating until I broke or he needed it for some reason.

Isolated from my dear girl but knowing that she is near, I tried to think of different methods of keeping in touch with her, although deep in my heart I perfectly knew that nothing would work. Caraffa had his reliable plan which he was not going to change to meet my wishes. Rather on the contrary, the more I wanted to see Anna, the longer he was going to hold her under lock and key preventing us from meeting. Anna has changed, becoming very sure and strong which frightened me a little, because I knew she took after her father in her stubborn character and could only imagine how far she could go in her persistence... I wanted so much that she should live! I wanted so much that Caraffa’s executioner did not encroach upon her fragile, still unblossomed, life! I wanted so much that my dear girl had everything yet to come.

I heard a knock at the door. Caraffa appeared on the threshold...

– How did you sleep, dear Isidora? I do hope that the immediate proximity of your daughter did not affect your sleep?

– Thank you for your concern, Your Holiness! To my surprise I slept splendidly! Perhaps, it was exactly Anna’s closeness that calmed me. Will I be able to talk to my daughter today?

He was shining and fresh, as if he had already broken me, as if his greatest dream had already come true... I hated his confidence in himself and his victory! ... even if he had all reasons for this... even if I knew that very soon I would go away forever at this mad Pope’s will... I was not going to surrender so simply. I wished to fight to the last sigh, to the last minute of my life on Earth.

– So what have you decided, Isidora? – The Pope merrily asked. – As I already told you before, exactly on it depends how soon you will see Anna. I hope you will not force me to take the cruellest measures? Your daughter doesn’t deserve her life being cut short so early, does she? She is really very talented, Isidora, and I sincerely would not like to harm her.

– I thought you knew me quite well enough, Your Holiness, to understand that threats would not change my decision... even the most frightful ones. I can die being unable to endure pain, but I will never betray which I live for. Forgive me, Holiness.

Caraffa stared hard at me, as if he heard something highly unreasonable which very much surprised him.

– Will you really not spare your wonderful daughter?! But you are more fanatic than me, Madonna!

On exclaiming that, Caraffa leaped to his feet and withdrew. I stood absolutely rigid, unable to feel my heart or retain my scattering thoughts, as if I had spent what was left of my strength on this short negative answer.

I knew that it was an end... that now he will take Anna in hand and I was not sure whether I could find the strength to endure all that. I did not have any forces left to think of revenge or of anything at all... My body got tired and refused to resist. Perhaps there was a limit after which "another" life began.

I desperately wanted to see Anna and at least give her a farewell hug, to feel her impetuous force and tell her once again how strongly I loved her...

I heard a noise at the door turned around and saw her! My dear girl stood there, upright and proud, thin, unbent, like a reed which the oncoming hurricane tries to break.

– Well, have a chat with your daughter, Isidora. Maybe, she will be able to bring reason to your strayed consciousness! I give you one hour; try to become reasonable, Isidora. Otherwise this meeting will be the last...

Caraffa did not wish to play anymore. It was his life that was at stake, just as the life of my dearest Anna. And if he did not care a straw about her life, he was ready to do anything for his.

– Mother, dear! – Anna stood at the threshold, motionless. – How we are going to destroy him? We shall not be able in fact, mother!

I jumped up from the chair and ran to my only treasure, to my dear girl and pressed her to my bosom as hard as I could...

– Oh, mother, you will smother me! – Anna’s laughter rang like silver bells.

My heart absorbed this laughter like one sentenced to death absorbs the warm parting rays of the setting sun.

– There, there, mother dear, we are still alive! We still can fight! You told me yourself that we would fight as long as we live... So let’s think whether we can do anything to save the world from this Evil.

She again supported me with her courage! She again found the right words...

This sweet brave girl, almost a child, could not even imagine to what tortures Caraffa could subject her! What atrocious pain her soul could drown in! But I knew... I knew everything that awaited her, if I refused to fulfill his wish, if I refused to give the only thing the Pope craved.

– My dear, my heart... I will not be able to watch you tortured... I will not give you to him, my girl! Sever and those like him do not care who will be left in this LIFE... So why must we be different? Why must we worry about somebody else's fate?!

My words scared even me... however deeply in my heart I perfectly understood it was the blank despair of our situation that provoked them. Certainly, I was not going to betray that, for the sake of which I lived and my father and my poor Girolamo died. I just wanted to believe, if only for a fraction of a second, that we could get away from this terrible "black" Carrafian world, just like that, forgetting about everything... forgetting about others – people we don’t know... forgetting about evil.

It was the momentary weakness of a tired person, but I understood that I did not have any right even to permit it. And to crown it all burning wicked tears began to roll down my face. But I tried so much to keep it from happening! I tried not to show my dear girl the depths of despair into which my pain-exhausted soul fell...

Anna sadly looked at me with her enormous grey eyes in which deep and very adult sorrow lived... She quietly stroked my hands, as if wishing to calm me. But my heart screamed a frenzied scream refusing to yield... I did not wish to lose her. She made the only remaining sense of my ruined life. I could not allow the inhuman creature called the Roman Pope to take her from me!

– Mother dear, don’t worry about me. – Anna whispered, as if she had read my thoughts. – I am not afraid of pain. And if it is very painful, grandfather promised to take me. I spoke to him yesterday. He will wait for me, if we fail... and dad too. They both will wait for me there. The only thing I feel very bad about leaving you here alone... I love you so much, mummy!

Anna hid her head in my arms, as if looking for protection... and I could not protect her... I could not save her. I did not find the "key" to Caraffa...

– Forgive me, my sun, for letting you down. I let down both of us... I failed to find the way to destroy him. Forgive me, Annushka.

An hour flew by unnoticed. We spoke about different things and did not come back to the murder of the Pope, because we both perfectly knew that we had lost this time... It did not matter what we wished... Caraffa still lived, and it was the most terrible and the most important thing. We did not succeed in relieving our world of him. We had not succeeded in saving good people. He lived despite any attempts or wishes... despite everything...

– Just don’t give in to him, mummy! I beg you, don’t give up! I know how hard this all is to you. But we all will be with you. He has no right to live long! He is a killer! And even if you agree to give him what he wants, he will destroy us anyway. Please, don’t agree, mother!

The door opened and Caraffa again appeared on the threshold. But now he seemed very displeased with something. Well I could assume with what... Caraffa was not sure of his victory anymore. It perturbed him because he had only this last chance left.

– So, what have you decided, Madonna?

I gathered the whole of my courage to prevent my voice from trembling, and calmly pronounced:

– I answered this question so many times, Holiness! What could have changed in such a short time?

I felt I was on the verge of fainting, but on looking into Anna’s eyes shining with pride, all the bad things suddenly disappeared... So light and beautiful was my daughter in this frightful moment!

– You went crazy, Madonna! Are you really able to send your own daughter to the basement so easily? You perfectly know what awaits her there! Come to your senses, Isidora!

Suddenly Anna came close to Caraffa and pronounced in her clear ringing voice:

– You are neither Judge nor God! You’re just a sinner! That is why the Sinners Ring burns your dirty fingers! I think it is no accident that you wear it, because you are the meannest of them! You will not frighten me, Caraffa. And my mother will never submit to you!

Anna drew herself up and..., spat in the Pope’s face. Caraffa went mortally pale. I never saw someone turn pale so quickly! His face became ash-grey literally in fraction of a second... and death blazed up in his burning dark eyes. Still being in a "stupor" at Anna’s unexpected behavior, I suddenly understood everything. She purposely provoked Caraffa in order not to linger over the outcome! She wanted a definite solution now to prevent my futher suffering. She wanted to die as soon as possible... My heart was twisted with pain. Anna reminded me of the girl Damiana... She decided her fate... and I could help her in nothing. I could not interfere.

– Well, Isidora, I think you will regret it terribly. You’re a bad mother. And I was right regarding women. They all are the devil’s brood, including my poor mother.

– I beg your pardon, Your Holiness, but if your mother is of the devil’s brood, then who are you, being the flesh of her flesh? – I asked, being sincerely surprised with his crazy deductions.

– Oh, Isidora, I have already exterminated it in myself a long time ago! Only on seeing you, I again felt something toward a woman. But I see now that I was wrong! You’re like the rest! You’re terrible! I hate you and all like you!

Caraffa looked mad... I feared that our end could be much worse than had been planned in the beginning. Suddenly the Pope abruptly jumped toward me and yelled:

– Yes or no?! I ask you for the last time, Isidora!

How could I answer this crazy man? Everything has been already said. So I said nothing, ignoring his question.

– I give you one week, Madonna. I hope that you will be reasonable in the end and pity Anna… and yourself... – He grasped my daughter’s arm and jumped out of the room.

Only now did I remember that I needed to breathe... The Pope’s behaviour astonished me so much that I could not come to my senses and waited for the door to open again. Anna offended him to death and I was sure that after he recovered from the fit of anger, he would recall it and take immediate measures. My poor girl! Her fragile and pure life hung by a thread which Caraffa’s capricious will could easily break...

I tried to think of nothing for some time to give a short break to my fevered brain. It seemed that not only Caraffa but the whole world I knew went mad... including my brave daughter. Well, our lives were prolonged for a week... Could we possibly change anything? Anyway there was no more or less worthy idea in my tired and empty head for the moment. I was unable to feel anything. I was unable even to be afraid. I think that people going to their death felt just like this.

Could I really change anything in seven short days, if I had not succeeded in finding the "key" to Caraffa for four long years? Nobody in my family ever believed in a fluke... Therefore it would be childish to hope that something would unexpectedly bring salvation. I knew that nobody would help us. Father could not help, if he offered Anna to take her spirit in case we fail... Meteora said no too... We were alone and must rely only on ourselves. Therefore we must think, trying not to lose hope to the very last moment, which in this sutuation was beyond me...

The air in the room began to thicken. Sever appeared. I only smiled at him, feeling neither excitement nor joy, because I knew that he did not come to help.

– I greet you, Sever! What brought you over again? – I calmly asked.

He looked at me with surprise, as if he did not understand my calmness. Probably he did not know that there was a limit for human suffering which is very difficult to reach... But if one succeeds, the most terrible things become absolutely insignificant, because there is no strength left even to be afraid...

– I am sorry I cannot help you, Isidora. Can I do anything for you?

– No, Sever. You cannot, but I’ll be pleased if you stay with me a little... I’m glad to see you. – I sadly answered and then added. – We got one week... It is highly likely that after that Caraffa will take our short lives. Tell me, are they really worth so little? Are we really going to leave so easily like Magdalena did? Will there be really nobody who would cleanse our world of this monster, Sever?

– I did not come to you to answer old questions, my friend... But I must confess that you made me do a great deal of thinking, Isidora... You made me see what I have persistently tried to forget for years. And I agree with you – we are wrong... Our truth is too "narrow" and inhuman. It smothers our hearts... and we become too cold to judge correctly what is going on. Magdalena was right saying that our Faith is dead... just as you’re right, Isidora.

I stared at him with utter surprise unable to believe what I heard! Was this the same proud and ever-right Sever who did not tolerate even the faintest criticism directed toward his great Teachers and his beloved Meteora?!!

I did not take my eyes off him trying to get to his pure but tightly shut soul... What could have changed the opinion he had held for centuries?! What could make him make change his mind and see the world in a much more human way?

– I know I surprised you. – Sever sadly smiled. – But the fact that I confided in you will not change the present events. I don’t know how to destroy Caraffa. But the White Volkhv does. Do you wish to see him once again?

– May I ask what changed you, Sever? – I asked carefully, ignoring his last question.

He reflected for a second, probably, trying to answer as honestly as possible...

– It happened very long time ago... from the day when Magdalena died. I did not forgive myself and all of us for her death. But apparently our laws lived in us too deeply and I had no courage to admit it. When you came, you vividly reminded me of everything that happened then... you are strong and give yourself to those who need you the same way she did. You shook up the memory that I’ve tried to kill for centuries... You brought back to life the Golden Maria in me... I thank you for it, Isidora.

Pain screamed deep in Sever’s eyes. There was so much that I was drowning in it! I could not believe that his warm and pure soul had opened, that he was at last living again! Sever, what can I do? Aren’t you terrified that monsters like Caraffa run the world?

– I’ve already told you, Isidora. Let’s go to Meteora again to see the White Volkhv... Only he can help you. Unfortunately, I cannot...

For the first time I felt his disappointment so vividly... he was truly disappointed by his helplessness... by how he lived... by his out-of-date TRUTH.

It turns out that the human heart cannot fight with what it has become accustomed to or what it has believed in for its whole life... That is why Sever could not change his belief easily and totally, even though realizing that he was wrong. For centuries he lived believing that he helped people and he did exactly that, which one day would save our imperfect Earth, and help in its birth... He believed in goodness and future despite the losses and pain which he could have avoided, if he’d opened his heart earlier...

But probably we all are imperfect, even Sever. And no matter how painful our disappointment is, it is necessary to live with it, correcting some old errors and making new ones, without which our Earthly life would be unnatural...

– Would you find a little bit of your time for me, Sever? I would like to know more about what you told me the other day. I hope I did not tire you with my questions. If I did, tell me so and I won’t bother you. But if you agree to speak with me, you’ll give me a wonderful gift, because nobody else will tell me what you know while I am still here, on Earth.

– But what about Anna? Wouldn’t you prefer to spend time with her?

– I called her... My girl does not answer probably because she is sleeping... I think she got tired. I don’t want to disturb her rest. Therefore, talk to me Sever.

He sadly and understandingly looked into my eyes and quietly asked:

– What do you want to know, my friend? Ask. I shall try to tell you everything.

– It’s Svetodar, Sever... What became of him? How has Radomir and Magdalena’s son lived his life on Earth?

Sever submerged into his thoughts... Finally he breathed deeply, as if shedding the delusion of the past and began the next breathtaking story...

– After Radomir’s crucifiction the Knights Templar took Svetodar to Spain to save him from the bloody claws of the "holiest" church which tried to find and destroy him whatever the cost, because the boy was the most dangerous living witness and also a direct successor of Radomir’s Tree of Life which would have to change our world some day.

Svetodar lived and cognized the surrounding world in the family of a Spanish grandee who was a faithful follower of Radomir and Magdalena’s teachings. To their great sorrow they did not have children of their own, therefore this "new family" accepted the boy very cordially, doing their best to make him feel as comfortable as possible. They named him Amori (which meant dear, darling), because it was dangerous to call him by his real name, Svetodar. It sounded too unusual to a stranger’s ear, and to risk his life because of it would be more than unreasonable. Thus Svetodar became the boy Amori for the rest and only friends and his family called him by his real name, but only when there were no strangers near...

Very well remembering his beloved father’s death and still cruelly suffering, Svetodar swore in his child's heart "to remake" this cruel and ungrateful world. He swore to dedicate his future life to others to show how dearly and selflessly his late father loved Life and how furiously he fought for Goodness and Light...

His uncle Radan stayed in Spain with Svetodar and was with the boy day and night, endlessly worrying for his fragile, still unformed life. Radan adored his wonderful nephew and was always on his guard fearing that one day somebody would hunt them down and take little Svetodar’s valuable life, for it was he who was destined to carry the torch of Light and Knowledge in our pitiless, but so dear and familiar Earthly world.

Eight tense years passed. Svetodar grew into a handsome young lad who now looked very like his brave father – Jesus-Radomir. He grew up and got strong, and the familiar steel which flared so often in his father’s eyes began to appear in his pure blue ones.

Svetodar lived and studied very diligently, hoping with all his heart that he would, one day, be like Radomir. Volkhv Isten taught him Wisdom and Knowledge. Yes, yes, Isidora! – Sever smiled at my surprise. – It was the same Isten who you met in Meteora. Isten and Radan tried to do their best to develop Svetodar’s lively mind and open the enigmatic World of Knowledge for him as wide as possible in order that, in case of any misfortune, the boy could stand up for himself fearessly confronting enemies or losses.

Svetodar parted with his dear sister and Magdalena a long time ago and from that day he never saw them alive... Although almost every month somebody brought the latest news from them, his lonely heart deeply missed his mother and sister – his only real family, except for his uncle Radan.

But even at this early age Svetodar learned not to show his feelings which he considered an inexcusable weakness for a real man. He aimed to grow into a Warrior, like his father, and did not wish to show people his vulnerability. So his uncle Radan taught him... and so asked his mother, distant and beloved Golden Maria, in her letters.

After Magdalena’s senseless and terrible death the whole of Svetodar’s inner world turned into endless pain... His wounded soul did not wish to put up with such unfair loss. Although uncle Radan had prepared him for the possibility of this kind of outcome a long time ago, the misfortune fell on young Svetodar like a hurricane of unendurable torments from which there was no rescue... His soul suffered, writhing in powerless anger, because nothing could be changed or brought back. His wonderful and tender mother went to a distant and unknown world, taking his little sister with her...

Now he was absolutely alone in this cruel and cold reality, having not become a truly adult man yet or understanding how to survive in this hatred and hostility...

But it was Radomir and Magdalena’s blood that ran in their only son’s veins, therefore he suffered his pain and remained the same firm Svetodar which surprised even Radan who better than anybody knew how terribly vulnerable one’s soul could be and how hard it was to come back to a place which now was without those who you loved and missed so sincerely and deeply...

Svetodar did not wish to surrender at the discretion of grief and pain... The more cruelly his life "beat" him, the more furiously he tried to fight, cognizing the ways to Light, Goodness and salvation of human souls which wandered in the darkness... An endless stream of people came to him begging for help. Some thirsted for the healing of physical illness, some craved healing for their wounded hearts and minds and some simply aspired to Light which Svetodar generously shared with all.

Radan’s alarm grew. The fame about his careless nephew’s "wonders" crossed the Pyrenees... the number of people who wanted the new "wonder-worker"’s help grew with every day. And he behaved as if he did not notice the approaching danger and refused nobody, confidently following Radomir's footsteps...

Several restless years passed. Svetodar matured, becoming stronger and more composed. Radan and he had moved to Occitania a long time ago where, it seemed, even the air breathed the teachings of his mother – a prematurely dead Magdalena. The Knights Templar met her son with open arms, swearing to do their best to save and help him.

And the day when Radan felt real threatening danger finally came. It was the eighth anniversary of the death of Golden Maria and Vesta – Svetodar’s beloved mother and sister...

The Valley of Magicians

– Look, Isidora... – Sever pronounced in a low voice. – I shall show it to you, if you wish.

A vivid but dreary and living picture opened before my eyes.

An importunate drizzly rain profusely sprinkled the sullen and misty mountains leaving a feeling of uncertainty and sorrow. A dark haze wrapped the nearest castles in cocoons of fog, converting them into lonely sentinels which guarded the eternal peace of the valley... The valley of Magicians sullenly looked at the gloomy picture, remembering the bright merry days lit by the hot summer sunrays, which made everything around look even sadder.

The entrance of the cave where Magdalena was killed

A tall and slender young man stood motionless at the entrance of the familiar cave like a sorrowful stone statue carved by an unknown master from the very stone of the cave...

I understood that this was the adult Svetodar.

He looked grown up and strong, imperious and at the same time very kind... His proud and highly held head told of his intrepidity and honour. His very long fair hair tied down by a red ribbon round his forehead fell in heavy waves on his shoulders, making him look like an ancient king... a proud descendant of the Meravingly.

Svetodar stood leaning against the moist stone, feeling neither cold nor moisture, feeling nothing...

Here, exactly eight years ago, his mother, the Golden Maria and his little sister, the brave and tender Vesta, found their death. They were brutally and meanly killed by a mad and wicked man sent by the "fathers" of the "holiest" church.

Magdalena did not live long enough to hug her grown up son who, like she, bravely and devotedly followed the familiar way to Light and Knowledge and the cruel earthly way of bitterness and loss...

The cave where Maria Magdalena and her daughter Vesta died

– Svetodar could never forgive himself for being far away when they needed his protection here. – Sever quietly continued. – Guilt and bitterness gnawed his pure and hot heart, making him fight yet more furiously with monsters which called themselves the "servants of God", "rescuers" of human souls... He clenched his fists and for the thousandth time swore to himself that he would "transform" this "wrong" earthly world, that he would destroy everything false, "black" and mean in it.

The Knights Templar’s red cross glowed on Svetodar’s broad chest... It was the cross that perpetuated the memory of Magdalena and no earthly force could make him forget the oath of the Knight's revenge.

The kindness and tenderness with which his young heart treated the light and honest people was equal to the severity of his cold brain toward the betrayers and the "servants" of the church. Svetodar was too decisive and strict toward himself, but surprisingly patient and kind toward others. It was people without conscience and honour that really repelled him. He did not forgive treachery and lies in any form and fought with this disgrace of man with all possible means, sometimes knowing that he could lose.

Suddenly, right in front of him, he saw a stream of very bizarre water in the grey shroud of rain which ran from the rock that beetled over his head. The dark drops sprinkled the walls of the cave leaving sinister brown traces on it... At the beginning Svetodar did not notice it, being deeply in his thoughts, but then, on looking closely, he gave a start – the water was crimson! It flowed from the mountain like a stream of dark "human blood", as if Earth opened its wounds, uncovering all man’s sins, unable to stand anymore of his meanness and cruelty...

After the first stream came a second, then a third, followed by a fourth and so on until the whole mountain was covered with brooks of red water; there was so much red water... It seemed that Magdalena’s holy blood called for revenge, reminding the living of her grief!

The seething red brooks merged into one in the hollow, deluging the wide river Aude which flowed in a stately way to the warm blue sea, oblivious to anything, washing on its way the walls of the old Carcassonne...

Red clay in Occitania

(When I visited those sacred places, I knew that the water in the mountains of Occitania becomes red because of red clay, but the view of the running "blood" water produced an indelible impression indeed...).

Suddenly Svetodar watchfully pricked up his ears... but then warmly smiled.

– Do you again watch me over, uncle? I told you a long time ago, I don’t wish to hide!

Radan came out onto a stone ledge, sadly shaking his grey head. Years had not spared him, imposing a harsh imprint of anxiety and loss on his light face... He already did not look like that happy young lad – ever-laughing sun-Radan – who could once kindle even the stalest heart. Now he was a Warrior hardened by adversity who tried to save his most precious treasure – Radomir and Magdalena’s son, the only living reminder of their tragic lives... their courage... their light and love at whatever cost.

– You have a Duty, Svetodarushka... just as I do. You must survive whatever it may cost. Because if you are gone, it will mean that your father and mother died in vain and that scoundrels and cowards win our war... You have no right to do that, my boy!

– You are wrong, uncle. I have my right to do that, because it’s my life! I shall not allow anybody to make rules for it beforehand. My father lived his short life submitting to the will of another person... just as did my poor mother, because they tried to save those who hated them, fulfilling the decisions of others. I am not going to submit to the will of one man, even if he is my grand-dad. It’s my life and I shall live it the way I consider necessary and honest! Forgive me, uncle Radan!

Svetodar got impassioned. His young mind objected to an outside influence on his own fate. By the law of youth he wished to decide his fate himself, allowing nobody to rule his life. Radan smiled a sad smile, watching his brave charge... Svetodar was richly endowed with everything – force, mind, self-control and persistence; he wanted to live his life honestly and openly... Unfortunately, he did not yet understand that there could not be an open war with those who hunted him simply because they did not have any honour, conscience, shame or heart.

– Well, you’re right in your own way, my boy... It’s your life. Nobody can live it for you... I am sure that you will live it with dignity. Just be careful, Svetodar. Your father’s blood runs in your veins and our enemies will never give up wanting to destroy you. Take care of yourself, my dear.

He patted his nephew on the shoulder and sadly stepped back, disappearing behind the stone ledge, a second later a cry and much noise was heard. Something bulky fell down and then… Silence...

Svetodar rushed toward the sound, but it was too late. Two bodies lay on the stone floor of the cave grappled in a mortal embrace. One was an unknown man dressed in a cloak with a red cross and the second was... Radan. Svetodar shrieked and threw himself onto his uncle’s body which lay motionless. It seemed that life had already abandoned it, denying Svetodar the chance to say a last farewell. But, it appeared, Radan still breathed.

– Uncle, please don’t leave me! Not you, please... I beg you, don’t leave me, uncle!

Svetodar perplexedly embraced his uncle with his strong arms, carefully rocking him like a little baby, just like Radan rocked him so many times a long time ago... It was obvious that life was leaving Radan, drop after drop flowing from his rapidly weakening body like a golden brook... But even now, knowing that he was dying, Radan worried about only one thing – how to protect Svetodar... How could he persuade him, during these remaining seconds, of that which he failed to pursuade him for those twenty five long years? How could he tell Maria and Radomir there, in that unknown world, that he failed to save himself and now their son is absolutely alone?

Radan's dagger

– Listen to me, son... This man... He is not one of the Knights Templar. – Radan hoarsely pronounced pointing at the killer. – I know them all. He is a stranger... Tell this to Gundomer... He will help... Find them... or they will find you. But it would be much better if you leave, Svetodarushka... Go to our Gods. They will protect you. This place is flooded with our blood... There is too much of it here... Leave, dear heart...

Very slowly Radan’s eyes closed. The weak hand unclenched and a knight's dagger fell out on the floor, clanking. It was very unusual... Svetodar looked at it more attentively. It simply could not be! This kind of weapon belonged to a very narrow circle of Knights, only to those who once personally knew John. It had a gilded crowned head on the top of the handle.

Svetodar was certain that Radan had not had his own dagger for some length of time (it once remained in his enemy’s body). It means that today he snatched the weapon off the killer. But how could it get into stranger hands?! Could a Knight Templar betray the cause for the sake of which they all lived?! Svetodar did not believe it. He knew these people like he knew himself. None of them could descend to such heinous depths. They would rather be killed than forced to betray. In this case who was that man with this special dagger?

Radan lay motionless and quiet. All earthly anxieties and bitterness left him forever... His face, hardened with years, smoothed out and he again reminded one of that merry young Radan who the Golden Maria loved so much and his brother Radomir adored with all his heart... He again seemed happy and light, as if all terrible misfortunes vanished and happiness and calmness reigned in his heart...

Svetodar was on his knees, not uttering a sound. His frozen body quietly rocked from side to side, as if helping to withstand this mean heartless blow... Here, in this very cave eight years ago Magdalena was killed... and now he said goodbye to the last member of his family, remaining truly alone. Radan was right. This place had absorbed too much of their family blood... Even the brooks were red... as if wishing to tell him – "Leave and never come back".

I was shivering with some strange fever... It was terrible! It was absolutely impermissible and incomprehensible. We called ourselves humans!!! Is there no limit to human meanness and treachery?

– How could you live with it for so long, Sever? How did you manage to stay so calm all these years, knowing that?!

He smiled sadly, leaving my question unanswered. And I, being sincerely surprised at this amazing man’s courage and firmness, discovered a new side of his selfless and difficult life... his unbending and pure heart...

– Several years passed after Radan’s murder. Svetodar found the killer and avenged his uncle’s death. He had thought this man was not a Knight Templar, but they never knew who he truly was. However they managed to find out that before killing Radan, the assassin had killed an oustanding and light Knight who was with them from the very beginning. He was murdered with the only purpose of seizing his cloak and weapon to give the impression that it was the Knights who killed Radan...

The accumulation of these bitter events poisoned Svetodar’s heart with losses. He had the only comfort left – his pure and true love... his dear tender Margaret... She was a wonderful Cathar girl, a follower of the Golden Maria’s teachings. There was something in her that was elusively reminiscent of Magdalena... Whether it was her long golden hair, her softness, her slowness of motion or simply the tenderness and femininity of her face, but Svetodar very often caught himself looking for his dearest recollections, which had disappeared into the past a long time ago, in her...

A girl was born in a year. They called her Maria.

As promised to Radan, little Maria was taken to nice brave people – the Cathars – who Svetodar knew very well and trusted fully. They engaged themselves in raising Maria like their own daughter whatever the cost or threat. Since then it became a kind of tradition. When a new child was born of Radomir and Magdalena’s line, he or she was fostered by people the existence of which the "holy" church did not even suspect. It was done to let them live their priceless lives to the end no matter how happy or sad they might be...

– How could they give their children away, Sever? Did the parents never see them again? – I was astonished.

– Why not? Of course they saw them. It’s just the fate of each child was different... Some parents would live nearby, especially mothers. Sometimes they even lived with people who raised their child. There were different situations... There was only one thing that never changed – the servants of the church had no rest and followed in their tracks like bloodhounds, using the least opportunity to kill the parents and children with Radomir and Magdalena’s blood in their veins, fiercely hating even the newly born child for it...

– How often did the descendants die? Did any of them manage to survive and live life to the end? Did you help them, Sever? Did Meteora help them? – I literally poured a squall of questions on him, unable to satisfy my burning curiosity.

Sever became silent for a second, then he sadly pronounced:

– We tried to help... but many of them did not wish for our help. I think the knowing about a father sending his son to his death lived in their hearts for centuries, without forgiving us or forgetting. Pain can be cruel, Isidora. It doesn’t forgive errors, especially those which are impossible to correct...

– Did you happen to know about any of these wonderful descendants, Sever?

– Of course, Isidora! We knew about all of them, although we did not always have occasion to see each of them. I think you too knew some of them. But let me finish Svetodar’s story first. His fate was difficult and strange. Are you sure you want to hear it? – I nodded and Sever continued...

– When his wonderful daughter was born, Svetodar finally decided to fulfill Radan’s last wish... Do you remember, Radan, when he was dying, asked him to go to the Gods?

– Well, yes, but was it serious? What "Gods" could he send him to? It’s been a long time since Gods lived on Earth!

– You are not quite right, my friend... Perhaps it’s not what people mean by Gods, but there always is someone on Earth who temporally occupies their place and looks after Earth, preventing it from approaching too close to the precipice, so the life on it will not come to a frightful and premature end. The world has not been born yet, Isidora. You know it. Earth still needs permanent help, but people must not know about it... They must choose for themselves, otherwise the help will bring only harm. Therefore Radan was not so wrong, sending Svetodar to those who watch. He knew that Svetodar would never come to us. But he tried to save him from misfortune, because he was Radomir’s direct descendant, his first-born son. He was the most dangerous of all, because he was the nearest and, if he was killed, this wonderful light line would never continue.

Svetodar bid farewell to his dear and tender Margaret, rocked his little Maria for the last time and left for a very long and difficult journey to the unknown northern country where the one to whom Radan sent him, lived. He was called a Wanderer...

Many years will pass before Svetodar comes home. He will come back to die, but he will live a full and bright Life. He will find Knowledge and Understanding of the world. He will find that for which he was persistently looking for so long...

I’ll show them to you, Isidora... I’ll show you that which I never showed to anybody...

Everything breathed with cold and space, as if I unexpectedly dived into Eternity... The feeling was unusual and strange. It spread joy and anxiety at the same time. I felt small and insignificant, as if somebody wise and enormous watched me in that moment, trying to understand who dared to disturb his peace. But soon this feeling disappeared, making way for an enormous, deep and "warm" silence...

I saw a boundless emerald glade and two men sitting in front of each other, crossing their feet... Their eyes were closed. Not a single word was pronounced, but it was clear that they talked...

I understood. It was their thoughts that talked...

My heart was pounding at mad speed, as if trying to jump out of my chest! I was doing my best to calm down, fearing to disturb these highly concentrating people who were in their enigmatic world. I watched them, holding my breath and trying to engrave their images in my soul, because I knew that this kind of thing would never be repeated. Nobody, save Sever, would show me the events so closely related to our past and our suffering, but still resisting, Earth...

One of them looked very familiar and, on looking closely at him, I recognized Svetodar... He was almost unchanged, only his hair had become shorter. But his face was much the same – young and fresh, like it was the day he left Montsegur...

The second one was also relatively young and very tall (which was obvious even when he sat). His long and "hoarfrosted" hair fell on his wide shoulders, shining under the sunrays with pure silver. The colour seemed very unusual and even unreal...

But it was his eyes which imressed me most of all – deep, wise and very large, they shone with the same pure silvery light, as if somebody’s generous hand scattered billions of silver stars in them...

His face was hard and at the same time kind, concentrated and aloof, as if he simultaneously lived two lives – an earthly and a different and stranger one...

If I got it right, he was exactly the one who Sever called Wanderer, the one who observed...

Both men wore white long garments decorated with red and girdled with thick, twisted red cords.

The world around this unusual couple fluidly swayed, changing its outlines, as if they sat in a closed vibrating space to which only the two of them had access. The air was fragrant and cool. It smelled of forest herbs, fir-trees and raspberry. The light breeze, which puffed now and then, gently caressed succulent tall grass, filling it with the fragrance of far away lilac, fresh milk and cedar cones... The land was so surprisingly safe, pure and kind, as if the world’s anxieties did not touch it, human spite passed it by and a lying and changeable man failed to set foot on it.

The two interlocutors rose, smiled at each other and began to say goodbye. Svetodar was the first to speak.

– I thank you, Wanderer... – He made a low bow. – I won’t be able to come back, you know. I go home. But I remembered well your lessons and I shall pass them to others. You’ll always live in my memory and my heart. Farewell.

– Go with peace, son of light people – Svetodar. I am glad I met you and I am sad that I have to part with you... I have girded you with everything you could conceive and give to others. But it does not mean that people will want to accept what you will want to tell them. Remember, knowing one, man is solely responsible for his choices. Not Gods or fate – only man himself! And unless he understands it, Earth won’t begin to change and become better... May your way home be light, devoted one. May your Faith keep you and may our Kin help you...

The vision disappeared and everything around became empty and lonely, as if an old and warm sun slowly hid behind the black cloud...

– How much time has passed since the day Svetodar left home, Sever? I thought he had spent a very long time there, even may be his whole life.

– Well, he did spend his whole life there, Isidora – the whole long sixty years.

– But he looks quite young! It means that he also managed to live long without getting older, didn’t he? Did he know the old secret or it was Wanderer who taught him?

– I cannot tell, my friend, because I don’t know. But I know another thing. Svetodar did not have time to teach people what Wanderer had taught him for years. He was brutally impeded... But he could see the continuation of his wonderful Line – his little great-grandson. He had an opportunity to name him his real name. It gave a rare possibility to Svetodar – to die happy... Sometimes it is enough even this tiny bit to feel that your life was not in vain, isn’t it, Isidora?

– Fate again chooses the best! Why then did he have to study all his life? What did he leave the wife and child for, if it was in vain? Or is there some great sense which I cannot understand, Sever?

– You shouldn’t grieve, Isidora. You understand everything perfectly well. Look at yourself, because the answer is your life... You fight, knowing perfectly well that you won’t win. But can you really act otherwise?

Man cannot surrender, assuming the possibility of loss; he has no right to this. Even if it won’t be you but somebody else who will be aroused by your courage, after your death, everything you did was not in vain. It’s just that earthly man has not grown up enough yet to comprehend it. Most people are interested in the fight while they are alive, but nobody thinks of what will be left after them. They are not able to "live for descendants" yet, Isidora.

– It is sad, if you are right, my friend... But it cannot be changed today. That is why we should let ourselves return to the subject of our conversation. Tell me how Svetodar’s life ended.

Sever tenderly smiled.

– You changed too, Isidora. You threw yourself into assuring me that I was wrong as far back as our past meeting! You began to understand a lot, my friend. It’s a pity that you leave for nothing... in fact you can do much more!

Sever fell silent for a second and then continued.

– After long and hard years of lonely wandering, Svetodar came back home at last to his dear Occitania... where sorrowful and irreparable losses were waiting for him.

His sweet and tender wife Margaret left this life before he could come back to share the difficulties with her... He also failed to meet his wonderful granddaughter Tara, his daughter Maria’s child... and great-grandchild Maria who died only three years before, giving birth to his great-great-grandson. He lost too many members of his family... The load of losses on his shoulders was too severe, preventing him from being happy at what was left of his life...

Look at them, Isidora... They are worthy of your knowing them.

I again appeared in the place where the dead people, who have become very dear to my heart, lived a long time ago... Bitterness wrapped my soul in a shroud of silence, preventing me from talking to them. I could not address them. I could not even tell them how brave and wonderful they were...

Occitania...

Three persons stood on the apex of a high mountain... One was Svetodar. He looked very sad. A very beautiful young woman leaned against his hand and a little blond boy clung to her, holding an enormous armful of bright wildflowers.

– Who have you picked so many for, Bieloyarushka? – Svetodar tenderly asked.

– What do you mean? – The boy was surprised and divided the flowers into three equal parts. – This one is for my mummy... this one is for my dear grandmother Tara and this one is for Grandmother Maria. Am I doing something wrong, grand-dad?

Svetodar did not answer but firmly clasped the boy to his chest. This wonderful tender child was the only one that he had... After his great-granddaughter Maria, who Svetodar never happened to see, died, the little one had only his aunt Marcilla (who was with them) and his father who Bieloyar almost did not remember because he always militated somewhere.

– You’re not going to leave us, grand-dad, are you? Are you going to stay with me and teach me? Aunt Marcilla says that you will always live only with us. Is it true, grand-dad?

His eyes shone like bright little stars. It was obvious that the little one was in raptures at seeing such a youthful and strong grandfather who appeared as if from nowhere! And "grandfather" sadly hugged him and thought of those he would never see, even if he lived on Earth a hundred lonely years...

– I shall go nowhere, Bieloyarushka. Where would I go, if you’re here? Now we shall always be together. You and I are a great force! Don’t you think so?

The little one squealed with pleasure and pressed close to his grandfather, as if the latter could disappear as suddenly as he appeared.

– Are you truly not going to go anywhere, Svetodar? – Marcilla quietly asked.

Svetodar sadly shook his head. Where he could go? Here was his land and his roots. Here all those he loved had lived and died. And exactly here he came back HOME.

Everybody in Montsegur was unspeakably glad to meet him, despite the fact that there were none left who could remember him. But there were their children and grandchildren. There were his CATHARS who he dearly loved and respected.

Magdalena’s Faith flowered in Occitania like never before, spreading far beyond its borders! This was the Golden Age of the Cathars. It was a time when their teachings rushed all over many countries like a powerful and invincible wave, wiping out any obstacles in its pure and right way. More and more people joined them. And despite all the "black" attempts of the "holy" Catholic church to destroy them, Magdalena and Radomir’s teachings won all truly light and brave hearts and all sharp and open to new things minds. In the farthest corners of the land minstrels sang marvellous songs composed by the Occitan troubadours, which opened eyes and minds of the enlightened, and amused "ordinary" people with their mastery of the romanticism.

Famous Occitan troubadours – Bernard de Ventadour and Bertran de Born

Occitania bloomed like a wonderful bright flower which had absorbed the Light Maria’s vital power. It seemed that no force could resist this powerful stream of Knowledge, Light and universal Love. People still worshiped Magdalena here. They adored her as if she still lived in each of them... she lived in each pebble or grain of this outstanding pure land...

One day wandering among familiar caves, Svetodar came upon a new one which shocked him to the depth of his heart... There, in a quiet corner, his wonderful mother, his beloved Maria Magdalena stood! It seemed that nature could not forget this extraordinary and strong woman and its mighty and generous hand created her image.

Nature created a statue of a beautiful woman with very long hair which wrapped her like a cloak in the corner of the cave. According to local Cathars the statue appeared right after Magdalena's death and it resembled her more and more with every new drop of water. Even now the cave is called Maria's cave and anyone can see a standing Magdalena there.

Svetodar turned around and saw another miracle – a statue of his sister was in the other corner of the cave! It obviously looked like a curly haired girl standing over something lying there (Could it be Vesta standing over her mother’s body?) Svetodar’s hair began to stand on end. It seemed to him that he began to go mad. He turned and quickly left the cave.

A statue of Vesta, Svetodar's sister

Occitania did not wish to forget them and created their monument, sculpturing dear faces drop by drop. They have been there for centuries, but water still continues its magic work trying to recreate the originals as accurate as possible.

Later, when he recovered from the shock, Svetodar asked Marcilla whether she knew something about what he had seen. When he heard yes, tears of happiness washed his heart. His mother, the Golden Maria still lived in this land! The land of Occitania recreated this wonderful woman in itself, "reviving" Magdalena in stone... It was a true creation of love, but this time it was nature which was the loving architect.

Another miracle of nature. Two lonely figures wander in the cave. Could it be a mother and a daughter?

Tears glittered in my eyes, but I was not ashamed. I would give a lot to meet one of them alive..., especially Magdalena. What marvellous and ancient Magic flamed in this outstanding woman’s heart when she created her magic reign! It was a Reign of Knowledge and Understanding and Love was its foundation. But it was not that love about which the "holy" church shouts its head off, wearing this marvellous word out so that one could not hear it anymore, but the wonderful and pure, real and brave, unique and amazing LOVE, at the name of which the states appeared... and ancient warriors went into battle... new life was born... our world changed and became better... it was this kind of Love which the Golden Maria brought. And I wanted to bow exactly to this Maria... for everything she carried, for her pure light LIFE, for her boldness and courage and for her love.

Regrettably, it was impossible... She lived centuries ago and I could not be the one who knew her. Incredibly deep sorrow suddenly seized me. Tears poured down my cheecks like salt streams...

– There, there, my friend! Other sorrows await you! – Sever exclaimed with surprise. – Please, I beg you, calm down...

He tenderly touched my hand and sorrow gradually disappeared. Only bitterness was left, as if I had lost something light and dear...

– You must not weaken... War awaits you, Isidora.

– Tell me, Sever. Were the teachings of the Cathars called the Teachings of Love because of Magdalena?

– You are not quite right, Isidora. It was not the devoted ones who called it the Teachings of Love. It had an absolutely different meaning for those who truly understood. Listen attentively to the words, Isidora: love in French is amour, isn’t it? Now divide it, separating the letter "a"... We’ll have a'mort which means without death... Here is the true meaning of Magdalena’s Teachings – the Teachings of the Immortals. As I have already told you, everything is simple, Isidora. One only has to look and listen correctly... Well, for those who do not hear, let it remain the Teachings of Love... In fact this name is beautiful too and there is a bit of truth in it.

I stood absolutely stunned. The Teachings of the Immortals! Da’Aria... So this is what Radomir and Magdalena’s Teaching was in reality! Sever surprised me many times, but never before I was so amazed! The Teachings of the Cathars attracted me with its powerful and magic force, and I could not forgive myself that I had not spoken about it with Sever before.

– Tell me, Sever. Is anything left of the Cathars’ records? Something should have been saved, shouldn’t it? Even if it were not the writings of the Perfect ones, then may be the writing of their students were saved? I mean, there should be something about their real life and teachings.

– Unfortunately not, Isidora. The Inquisition destroyed everything everywhere. The Pope sent his vassals even to other countries to destroy any manuscript or any piece of birch bark they could find... We were looking for to save but could not save anything.

– But what about people? Could they keep something or could there be somebody who would save it through centuries?

– I don’t know, Isidora... I think that, even if someone had a record, then it was changed over time. In fact it is in man’s nature to refashion everything in his own way, especially when he does not understand much. So it is highly unlikely that something was saved as it was. It’s a pity, really... We have Radomir and Magdalena’s diaries, but they were written before the Cathars. Although I think that the Teachings had not changed since then.

– I am sorry for my confused thoughts and questions, Sever. I see that I’ve lost a lot refusing to come to you, but I am still alive and I can ask you while I breathe, right? Will you tell me how Svetodar’s life ended? I am sorry for interrupting you.

Sever smiled. He liked my impatience and thirst for knowing everything I could while I have time. So he gladly continued.

– Svetodar lived and taught in Occitania for only two years, Isidora; but these years became the most precious and happy years of his wandering life.

He spent his days, lit by Beloyar’s merry laughter, in his favourite Montsegur surrounded by the Perfect ones to who Svetodar honestly and sincerely tried to pass what the far away Wanderer had taught him for all those long years.

A sunray in the Temple of Sun

They gathered in the Temple of Sun which increased tenfold the Living Power they needed and also protected them from undesirable "guests" which wished to get there secretly unwilling to appear openly.

The Temple of Sun was a tower specially built in Montsegur which let direct sunrays through the window at a certain time which made the Temple look truly magic. Also this tower concentrated and strengthened the energy which helped the Cathars who worked there to lighten the tension and spend less of their vital forces.

Soon an unforeseen and quite amusing event happened, after which the closest Perfect ones (and later the rest of the Cathars) began to call Svetodar a "Fiery one". It happened during an ordinary lesson when Svetodar was slightly "careless" and showed the whole of his Spirit... As is generally known, all the Perfect ones were seers and the sudden appearance of Svetodar’s blazing Spirit truly shocked them... Thousands of questions showered down on him, many of which even he could not answer. Perhaps only the Wanderer could, but he was unattainable and distant, therefore Svetodar had to explain it somehow to his friends on his own... It is unknown, whether he succeeded in doing so or not, but since that day the Cathars began to call him a Fiery Teacher.

It’s true that the name of the Fiery Teacher is mentioned in some modern books about the Cathars. Regrettably, it is not a real one... Probably Sever was right, saying that people redo everything in their way, having little or no understanding... For example, I found recollections of the "last Cathar" Deodat Roche who said that the Fiery Teacher was a Schteiner(?!)... Here we go again. The people of Israel, which never were among the real Cathars, is forcefully "fastened" to everything Pure and Light....

Two years passed. Peace and quiet reigned in Svetodar’s tired soul. Days ran by, carrying away old sorrows far, far away... Beloyar seemed to grow by leaps and bounds, becoming cleverer with every passing day, excelling his older friends about which his gran-dad Svetodar was extremely happy.

But one of these lucky and quiet days Svetodar suddenly felt a strange and acute alarm... His Gift told him that a misfortune was knocking on his peaceful door...

It seemed that nothing changed. Nothing was happening, but Svetodar’s alarm grew, poisoning the pleasant moments of complete peace.

One day Svetodar went for a walk with little Bieloyar (whose secular name was Frank) on the outskirts near the cave where almost all his family died. The weather was wonderful. It was sunny and warm and Svetodar’s feet brought him to the sad cave... As usual little Bieloyar picked some wildflowers and grand-dad and great-great-grandson came to pay tribute to the dead.

It is highly likely that somebody put a curse on this cave for his family, otherwise it was impossible to understand, how they, so extraordinarily gifted completely lost their sensitivity, when getting exactly into this cave, and like blind kittens went straight into the trap which somebody had laid for them.

Bieloyar, who was merrily twittering his favourite song, suddenly became silent as always happened when he entered the familiar cave. The boy did not understand what made him behave like this, but as soon as they entered, his merry mood evaporated and sorrow settled in his heart...

– Tell me, grand-dad, why was somebody always killed here? This place is very sad. I "hear" it... Let’s go away, grand-dad! I don’t like it here... It always smells of trouble.

The boy’s shoulders fearfully flinched, as if he truly felt the trouble. Svetodar sadly smiled, firmly hugged the boy and wanted to go out outside, as four unknown persons appeared at the entrance of the cave.

– You are not welcome here, uninvited ones. It’s a family place of sorrow and entrance is forbidden to strangers. Leave in peace. – Svetodar pronounced quietly.

He was bitterly sorry that he had taken Bieloyar with him. The boy was scared and pressed close to his grandfather, feeling that bad things were about to happen.

– Well then, it’s just a perfect place! – One of them burst out laughing insolently. –We won’t have to look for anything else.

They began to surround the unarmed couple, obviously trying not to approach them too close for the time being.

– Well, Devil’s servant, show us your force! – The "holy warriors" summoned up their courage. – What, your horned master does not help you?

The strangers deliberately made themselves angry, trying not to yield to fear, because they had heard a lot about the unbelievable force of the Fiery Teacher.

Svetodar easily pushed the boy behind his back with his left arm and the right one stretched toward the "guests", as if closing the entrance to the cave.

– I warned you, the rest is your business... – He pronounced severely. – Leave and nothing bad will happen to you.

The four defiantly roared with laughter. One of them, the tallest, took a narrow knife and, insolently swinging it, began to approach Svetodar... And here Bieloyar fearfully squeaked, slipped out of his grandfather’s hands, rushed like a bullet to the man with the knife and began to beat his knees with a weighty pebble he had picked up on the way. The stranger roared in pain and hurled the boy like a fly. The problem was that the "guests" still stood at the entrance... and the stranger threw Bieloyar exactly toward the entrance... The boy thinly cried, turned over his head and flew into the precipice like a light ball... All of it took only several short seconds and Svetodar did not have time...

Blind with pain he stretched his hand to the killer, who flew in the air a couple of steps, hit his head on the wall and slipped down on the stone floor like a heavy sack. On seeing their fugleman come to such a sad end, his "partners" bunched back into the cave. But here Svetodar made a mistake... Wishing to see whether Bieloyar was alive, he came to the precipice too close and only for an instant turned from the killers. Immediately one of them ran up like lightning and struck him in the back with his leg... Svetodar’s body flew into the abyss following little Bieloyar... Everything was over. There was nothing to look at anymore. The foul "human beings", pushing each other, quickly got out of the cave...

A short time later a blond little head appeared at the precipice of the entrance. The child carefully crawled onto the edge of the ledge and, on seeing that there was nobody inside, began to cry bitterly... Probably the wild fear and offense and maybe injuries poured out with the waterfall of tears, washing everything he had just outlived... He cried bitterly for a long time, talking to himself, being angry and pitying, as if his grand-dad could hear him... as if he could come back to save him...

– I told you, this cave is wicked! I told you... I told you! – Convulsively sobbing, the child wailed – Why did not you listen to me! What shall I do? Where do I go now?

Tears rolled down his dirty little cheeks like a burning stream, tearing his little heart apart... Bieloyar did not know whether his beloved grand-dad was still alive... He did not know whether the wicked people would come back. He was simply very scared and there was nobody to calm him... nobody to protect him...

Svetodar lay motionless on the bottom of the deep crevice. His widely open, pure blue eyes looked at the sky, seeing nothing. He went far, far away where Magdalene waited for him... and his beloved father with kind Radan... and his little sister Vesta... and his tender Margaret with his daughter Maria... and his unknown grandaughter Tara... And all those who died a long time ago, protecting their beloved world from monsters which called themselves people...

And here, on earth, a man sat on a round pebble in a lonely empty cave... He looked quite small and very frightened. Bitterly crying, he furiously smeared wicked tears with his fists and swore in his child's heart that one day he would grow and remedy the "wrong" world of adults and make it joyful and good!

It was Bieloyar... the great descendant of Radomir and Magdalena – small, lost in the world of big people…, a crying Man.

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