The Story of The Two Angels

Part Two

After two more hours of walking, the sun had truly set. The silvery light of the moon and winking sparkles of the stars guided the two travelling angels to the home of a wealth family in the valley. They stopped to see if they could spend the night.

The mansion and surrounding lands belonged to a greedy, selfish Thane, who literally ruled the small fishing hamlet beyond his home by the river. The Thane was a tall, warrior of a man, who was rude and obnoxious to everyone about him, even his own children. With mocking smiles, the Thane and his henchmen invited the two travellers in, and then turned on them. They became suddenly rude, mocking young Marcel and trying to use him as a source of entertainment by daring the angel to fight with a chained bear the Thane was saving for baiting. After Marcel had refused over and over, the Thane and his men became bored with the two travellers, and refused to let the angels have any food or stay in the mansion's guest room. Instead the angels were given a small space in the cold cellar bellow the great hall.
As they made their beds on the cold, hard flagstone floor of the cellar, Marcel was fuming, tears falling from his eyes.

“Fight a bear!” he cursed. “Me, an angel, fight a bear and kill it! What sort of people do that to God’s creation?”

“Marcel,” soothed the older angel. “I know it’s cruel, but you must forget this for the time being. This is not why we’re here.”

“Can’t we… There must be a way…” Marcel threw himself down onto his blanket, shaking his head desperately with frustration.

The older angel lay down calmly on his own blanket, folding his hands behind his head, staring up at the ceiling. “Pray. If you must do anything, then pray.”

The older angel let his eyes wonder lazily about the cold cellar, ignoring the trivial collection of beer that the Thane stored down there. It was then that the older angel saw a hole in the wall, and he scrambled up to his feet.

“Marcel!” he hissed, making his miserable young companion look up. “Do you see this hole here?”

Marcel nodded dolefully. “Yes. Now I do. I didn’t notice it before. Why?”

The older angel suddenly smiled – the first real time since he’d entered the Thane’s house – the lines on his face growing deeper, making him look merry and full of joyous life.
But his only reply was: "Things aren't always what they seem."

A cold chill hung low in the air, hanging a thick, grey, dense mass high up above the gorge. Early that morning, as the sun had begun to rise from sleep, the grey-blue storm clouds had hidden her warm, bright smile from the land in a selfish stance, hoping to keep the previous night, and the savage storm that had accompanied it, with them for as long as possible. By late evening, the promise of yet more rain still hung heavy in the air, so the moon would soon be fighting against another of the storm clouds of the previous nights storm’s brethren.

“Look!” the older angel ordered, and suddenly the hole in the wall was repaired.
Marcel frowned. “What did you do that for?”

The angels had departed quickly from the Thanes house after a restless night’s sleep; Marcel so fast that the older angel had to run to keep up with him. They had walked all through the day, and as night began to draw in once more, the pair came to rest at the house of a very poor, but very hospitable farmer and his poorly wife.

It was a stark contradiction to the Thane and his hospitality. After sharing what little food they had, the couple insisted the angels sleep in their bed where they could have a good night's rest.

Marcel had the deepest sleep he’d had in many weeks. He was nearing the end of his lesson, his journey; he could feel it.

When the sun came up the next morning, the angels were awoken by the sounds of crying. Marcel rushed outside before the older angel could drag himself out of bed, only to find the farmer and his wife in tears in front of the house. To his horror, Marcel saw that the couple’s only cow, whose milk had been their sole income, lay dead in the field beyond.
With that the younger angel turned and stormed back into the small farmhouse to confront his companion, who was seating himself at the table in the living room, his face serious, staring out past the door towards the field.

Marcel was shaking with rage, infuriated at what had happened.

“How could you have let this happen?” the angel stormed. He pointed back towards the farmer and his wife. “That Thane we first stayed with had everything, yet you helped him by fixing his wall!” he accused him. “But this second family had little but was willing to share everything with us, and you let the cow die! How could you do that? I don’t understand!”

“Things aren't always what they seem,” the older angel replied. “That’s what I told you to remember, Marcel. You see, when we stayed in the cellar of the mansion, I noticed there was gold stored in that hole in the cellar wall. Since the owner was so obsessed with greed and unwilling to share his good fortune, I sealed the wall so he wouldn't find it.

“Then last night as we slept in the farmers bed, I woke to find that the angel of death had come for the farmer’s poorly wife. I gave him the cow instead.” The older angel looked Marcel dead in the eye, then smiled, the lines on his face growing deeper, making him look merry and full of joyous life. “Remember, Marcel. This is your lesson. This is why I brought you here, to show you that things aren't always what they seem.”