# In the Service of Mystery (Pt. 9)

Author: CofEFur
Tags: Canine, Character Development, Clean, Collie, Hare, Horse, Labrador, Lynx, Otter, Plot Development

#10 of In the Service of Mystery

Father Francis has a revelation for Harry. A little about the nature of Francis' work.

I groaned.&nbsp; By now we had reached the vicarage.&nbsp; We walked down the path while Charlie rummaged in the boot of his car.&nbsp; I unlocked the front door and heard muffled scraping and cursing as Charlie dragged a suitcase up the gravel path.&nbsp; As Charlie reached the door, Harry took the case from him and hefted it easily with one paw.&nbsp; The little hare shot a look at him, but I could see that there was no malice in it.&nbsp; After all, they had been friends for longer than I had known them.

&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; I pushed the front door open and stood aside as Harry and Charlie entered.&nbsp; Harry headed up to the guest bedroom and I led Charlie through to the kitchen.

'Sit down, Charlie.' I said.&nbsp; 'Do you want a drink?&nbsp; I've got a nice bottle of red somewhere.'

Charlie nodded, so I pulled out some wine glasses from a cupboard and hunted out the wine. When I turned back to the table, Charlie had taken the knife fragments out of their tissue paper wrapping and laid them out.&nbsp; I put the bottle and the glasses down and drew up a chair.

&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Harry came clattering into the room.&nbsp; He tweaked at the cuffs on his shirt.&nbsp; He looked much more comfortable in his own clothes, even though he pressed his shirts so that they would pass a parade ground inspection.&nbsp; My shirts usually looked more like they had been enthusiastically ironed by the kids at the school.

'Would you like to do the honours?' I asked him.&nbsp; 'There's beer in the fridge if you'd prefer it.'

&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Harry picked up the wine bottle and I headed into my study.&nbsp; I ducked under my desk and pulled out a cardboard box that contained some of the things that my father had left me.&nbsp; The box had sat under my desk since I moved to the village and I hadn't opened it since my father's funeral - for several years it had been gathering dust in my mother's attic.&nbsp; Carefully, I split the packing tape with a claw.&nbsp; I folded back the flaps and reached inside.&nbsp; I was looking for some books that my father had written on the subject of deliverance ministry and possession, but my searching paw encountered something else.

&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; It was a photograph, faded with age and creased from having spent its life in a wallet or purse.&nbsp; With great care I unfolded it.&nbsp; The photograph showed my father at about my age, or maybe a little older and me as a teenager.&nbsp; I looked distinctly uncomfortable in a formal suit, one ear inside out and the fur on my head sticking out at wild angles.&nbsp; My father, on the other paw, was resplendent in the robes of a cathedral canon.&nbsp; He had one paw on my shoulder and a beaming smile on his muzzle.&nbsp; The memory came flooding back.

&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; It was the day of my confirmation.&nbsp; I had been one of thirty or so candidates.&nbsp; The old bishop had preached a long and rambling sermon; my father had to keep nudging me to stop me fidgeting.&nbsp; I didn't remember much about the confirmation itself; only the weight of the bishop's paws on my head, pressing my ears uncomfortably against my scalp; and the reassuring pressure of my father's paw on my shoulder.&nbsp; It was after the confirmation, just before the photograph was taken, that I had quietly told my father of my wish to follow in his pawsteps into the priesthood.&nbsp; He had laughed, but, even after all those years, I've remembered the pride that had tinged his voice and the smile that lingered on his features.

&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; I held the photograph in my paw and found my memory wandering to less pleasant things.&nbsp; It was during my second year at seminary that my father had died.&nbsp; I was called into Father Lutra's study and found the old otter standing there with a horse in police uniform. Father Lutra told me to take a seat, the police officer sat opposite me.&nbsp; She removed her uniform cap and placed it on the low table between us.&nbsp; She brushed her mane back between her ears and fixed me with a doleful gaze.

'Mr Shepherd?'&nbsp; She asked, her voice level and calm.&nbsp; I stared at her, confused and worried, my tail trying to tuck itself between my legs.&nbsp; I nodded dumbly.

'I'm Sergeant Lamri, I'm the family liaison officer for the traffic policing unit.&nbsp; I'm terribly sorry to have to bring bad news.&nbsp; There has been an accident on the Newton Road.&nbsp; Your parents were involved.&nbsp; Your mother has been taken to hospital; I'm so sorry, but your father was pronounced dead at the scene.'

&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; After that I remember nothing, the scene fades away from me.&nbsp; Later I was told that I had stood up and walked out of Father Lutra's study in silence.&nbsp; I was apparently found in the seminary chapel a short while later in floods of tears.&nbsp; Then, I was collected by Sergeant Lamri.

&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; The next thing I remember was sitting in the police car being driven into Newton.&nbsp; By this point my mother was in a coma and the authorities had needed someone to identify my father's body.&nbsp; I was escorted to the county pathologist's laboratory where the mortal remains of my father well laid out on a stark metal table under a white sheet.&nbsp; Again my memory fails me.&nbsp; The shock and terror of such a loss robbed me of the final time I was able to see my father's face.&nbsp; What remained of the memory was the smell of disinfectant and plastic.

&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Almost without thinking, I carefully folded the photograph and pushed it into my pocket.&nbsp; Then, I was brought back to the present by the sound of the cork popping out of the wine bottle in my kitchen.&nbsp; I wiped the tears from my eyes and did my best to brush the tear tracks out of my fur with my paws. I heaved the whole box off the floor and carried it through to the kitchen and plonked it on the table. &nbsp;Once I had put the box down, Harry waved the bottle of wine at me and said:

'Are you having a drink, then?'

'Yeah,' I replied, 'Could you grab me a beer?'

&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Harry nodded and opened the fridge.&nbsp; Beside me, Charlie had put down his wineglass and started pulling books out of the box at random.&nbsp; Charlie was a lifelong bibliophile and it was a sight to behold as he pulled each rare volume into the light: his ears twitched with joy as he turned every volume over in his paws.

'_Canis et Cultus_!'&nbsp; He enthused.&nbsp; 'Gerhard von Pferd's study of ancient canine purity cults!&nbsp; First edition!'

&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Slowly the little hare disappeared behind a towering fortress of antique books until all that was visible of him with the tips of his ears.

&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Harry pressed a bottle of beer into my paw.&nbsp; I took it gratefully and drank.&nbsp; I settled back in my chair and, to a background of excited squeaks from Charlie as he discovered another papery gem, I carefully selected a few volumes.

&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Harry looked at a few of my chosen titles and said:

'_Triumph over Evil; Fox and Spirit,_ how did you get into all this weird stuff?&nbsp; I mean to say, surely there's no call for exorcists anymore?'

&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; I sighed quietly.&nbsp; I wasn't particularly happy about explaining deliverance ministry at the best of times (films have much to answer for); also, I learnt most of what I knew from my father and those memories were very raw.&nbsp; Nevertheless, my sorrows were nothing compared to Harry's and I didn't begrudge him an explanation.&nbsp; I shuffled through the books and held up a slim volume, it binding worn from years of use.

'This is still the key book for deliverance ministry.'&nbsp; I said, waving it at Harry.&nbsp; '_The Rescue of Souls_ by Giovanni Tasso-Meles.&nbsp; It's out of date, but Tasso-Meles had a wonderful grasp of how the mind works.&nbsp; He also lists the most common forms of "possession".

&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 'Tasso-Meles said, and my father agreed, that the right prayer and the right ritual could calm a troubled subject.&nbsp; My father realised that much of the rites of deliverance had historically centred around the name of the demon, evil spirit, or whatever - this is vital.&nbsp; Knowing something by name is powerful, Harry, and, as Tasso-Meles said the evil must then be abjured by name and in the name of the highest.'

&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Harry looked at me and scratched at the tuft of the on the top of his ear.&nbsp; He thought for a moment.

'But, what if they're just mad?&nbsp; Surely we can't subject parishioners to something like this if their ill?'

'Not anyone can perform the rites.&nbsp; They have to be licensed by the Bishop and have consulted with a psychiatrist first.&nbsp; Anyway, this is different.&nbsp; You saw what happened.&nbsp; That was downright weird.&nbsp; Don't laugh, but that seemed occult.&nbsp; I don't like to think like this, but someone or something is in control.&nbsp; I'm sure I read about something similar in one of these books once, a fleeting reference, but there was definitely something.'

'It was weird all right.'&nbsp; Said Harry.&nbsp; 'I still can't believe that we actually have exorcists.'

'Well, you're looking at him!'&nbsp; I said, wagging my tail with excitement and trying to put on my I'm-just-a-normal-guy expression.

&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; To be frank, I had honestly thought that Harry knew about my appointment.&nbsp; It wasn't something that was publicised, but normally local priests were told.&nbsp; I was dead wrong.&nbsp; Harry's jaw dropped open and he simply stared at me stop

'I know I joked about you being an exorcist, Nerd,' He said eventually, 'But, I thought this was just... You know... Academic weirdness.'

&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; I shrugged, I knew what was going to come next.

'So,' Said Harry, 'Have you erm...'

&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; He twiddled a paw vaguely in the air.&nbsp; This, sadly, always brings out the puppy in me and the schoolyard humour.&nbsp; I sprang out of my chair and waved my paws dramatically over my head.

'What?'&nbsp; I said in my best amateur dramatic voice.&nbsp; 'Do you mean, casting out demons of unbelievable power and malice?&nbsp; Slinging them down to the lowest circle of Hades?&nbsp; Sending them back from whence they came; to the foul pits of angry mice who nibble on your tail for all eternity?'

I grabbed my tail and started making squeaking noises and snorting with laughter.

'No,' I continued, 'It's not really like that.&nbsp; It's closer to counselling and liaising with priests to help them in pastoral things that aren't run-of-the-mill.&nbsp; It's about caring for parishioner first and foremost.'

&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Harry looked disappointed.&nbsp; I could just make out Charlie staring at me over the top of a stack of books - I think that he'd seen my performance before and still wasn't impressed.&nbsp; I grinned at them both and sat down again.

&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; I picked up the tag which should come with the schools' fragment of knife.&nbsp; There was something about it that had been nagging at the back of my mind.&nbsp; After a moment's thought it came to me: the knife had come from the Oxfold Estate.&nbsp; After my meeting with Arthur Oxfold, I was feeling wary of having anything to do with him and his family.&nbsp; I put the tag back on the table and gently tapped it with a claw.

'Arthur Oxfold,' I said, 'Him again.&nbsp; You can't turn anywhere in this village without his name cropping up.'

&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Both Harry and Charlie started to speak at once.&nbsp; There was a moment of confusion and apologies while they sorted themselves out.&nbsp; In the end it was Charlie who spoke.

'I ought to be going, Francis.'&nbsp; He said.&nbsp; 'Can I borrow these?'

He held up a couple of volumes.

'Sure,' I said, 'Just don't adopt them!&nbsp; I think you still got some of my books and seminary.'

Charlie pulled on his ear.&nbsp; I know that he thought his love of old books was a bad habit and I never got tired of teasing him about it.

'Ah, yes.'&nbsp; Said Charlie.&nbsp; 'I'll try and find them.&nbsp; Thanks Francis.&nbsp; Harry, I'll see you soon.'

&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; With that, the little one stood up and made his way to the hall, the pattering of his paws slowly fading and a quiet click as the front door closed.

'He hasn't got any better at goodbyes!'&nbsp; I said to Harry.&nbsp; 'What were you trying to say?'

'I was going to ask: who exactly is Arthur Oxfold?'&nbsp; Replied Harry.&nbsp; 'You've mentioned the name Oxfold, but what's so important about Oxfold?'

&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; I settled back in my chair and scratched my muzzle.&nbsp; I was trying to work out how best to explain what little I knew about the politics of the village to Harry.

'As I said earlier, the Oxfolds were pretty much given the village in payment of being mercenaries in the Middle Ages.&nbsp; As far as I can see the current Lord of the Manor, Arthur, is carrying on the fine Oxfold family tradition of feudal leadership.&nbsp; Just like his ancestors, I think that Arthur Oxfold is trying to keep the populace under control with a mix of generosity and fear.'

I paused for a moment, and then added:

'And, this is only a guess, but also with pagan rituals.&nbsp; You see, I have a tiny congregation here even though this is a large village; half of the village isn't even baptised - baptism isn't a big family event like in some rural communities.&nbsp; The only reason that I'm priest just for this village, is that the parish has a couple of rich patrons who live overseas and they are determined that there be a priest in the village for all its inhabitants.'

'That's a pretty wild guess, Nerd.'&nbsp; Said Harry.&nbsp; 'I've met a few pagans and they are harmless.&nbsp; I can't see how new-age things can control a village.'

'This isn't the whole dancing around stones kind of thing.'&nbsp; I replied.&nbsp; This isn't just crystals and animals wearing bits of foliage on their heads.&nbsp; I think there's something darker happening and that knife is key to us finding out.'

&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; I stood up and walked over to the window.&nbsp; Outside the sun was setting and the shadows were lengthening.&nbsp; Even just a couple of days before, I had watched the sunset over the village and thought it beautiful, a final blessing on the day.&nbsp; Now, the redness of the fading light seemed to be a coating of blood, symbolic of a community suffering; a community that has lived for too long a time under the weight of an oppression.&nbsp; It was as if the village was collapsing under the load of its entire, troubled history.

&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; I turned back to Harry.&nbsp; He was slumped in his chair, his head resting in his paws.&nbsp; He glanced up at me, his eyes wet with tears.

'I'm sorry, Nerd.'&nbsp; He whispered.&nbsp; 'It's just... You know.&nbsp; Ten years and all.&nbsp; Sometimes it's just too much to bear.&nbsp; I'm sorry.'

&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; I sat down opposite him, my paws resting in front of me on the table.&nbsp; I didn't know what to say.&nbsp; Harry had always been the strong one in our group.&nbsp; It was his support that had brought me through the trauma of my father's death and my mother's long and painful recovery after the car crash.&nbsp; I felt a touch against my left paw; Harry had reached out to me, instinctively I clasps his paw in mine.

'Thanks, Nerd.'&nbsp; He said.

&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; We sat for a while, the kitchen growing darker around us.&nbsp; After ten minutes or so, Harry let go of my paw.

'I'm heading to bed.'&nbsp; He said.&nbsp; 'Thanks again.'

&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; I nodded and watched as he left the room.&nbsp; I sat in darkness for a while.&nbsp; It had been a long and tiring day, but I was still determined to try to find out more about the Oxfold family.&nbsp; That and I had to try and help Harry.&nbsp; I stood up and felt the bones in my spine and tail crack as I shifted position.&nbsp; I headed upstairs to bed.

Source: https://sofurry.com/s/A1prag3m
Part of the series In the Service of Mystery
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