| General Fiction posted September 20, 2022 | Chapters: |
...46 47 -48- 49... 
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The ladies are dreading walking to the top of the Tor
A chapter in the book The Tor
The Staircase
by Liz O'Neill
| Background The ladies have discussed and processed their traumatic experiences from having been vortexed into past lives in the 16th century and are considering the long climb to get to the top of the Tor |
Madeline is the narrator.
Cordelia was the dishwasher and invited her to accompany her to England.
Somara was the bookkeeper for the Monastery.
Cyndy was the shepherd for four sheep.
Jill tended to the hens and chickens and the flower gardens.
Caren was a potter for the monastery in a separate building.
Mary Jo was in charge of the appearance of the chapel.
Karin was a counselor to the distressed brothers, but was exposed and expelled for deceiving authorities.
Previously: The reason for gathering in England was to participate in a harp theory course where they learned how to play certain chords for healing.
In the past life experience, several were playing medieval harps. When asked about how awkward those harps felt compared with the ones in the 21st century, several of the harpists laughed, almost with a gallows tone.
Caren sighed, lowering her head, gesturing a heavy burden. “They were heavier than any box of pottery I ever hefted, certainly not streamlined.”
Another of Jill’s questions matched my puzzling. “So, how was it you guys knew how to play the harp back in the 16th century?”
**************
Once again, Cordelia came through. My, she was smart in this subject. “Remember, we had no idea of our backstories while in the monastery. We still have no way of knowing what our 16th century characters did in their childhood. They had one, of course, so they may have learned how to play a harp in a schooling situation.
“We probably will never know. That experience must have tickled our fancy to learn in this lifetime. Like Caren still being drawn to pottery-making and Karin being called to help troubled individuals through psychiatry.”
The tone changed as everyone directed their eyes upward to the right, squinching their faces demonstrating deep consideration, with several purring sounds of agreement.
The pause was a perfect cue for us to attack the eternal stairs to reach the top. “Do we want to attempt those steps?” I gestured toward the staircase, which was obviously missing a handrail. “It has,” forming the gesture for quotes, “‘religious pilgrimage’ written all over it, where people pray on every step. That would be a lot of praying. There had to be an easier way.”
There were several moans. Mary Jo joined with a few others and said,“I might just sit this one out.”
There were random soundings of ‘yuh’.
Cyndy remembered the labyrinth. “Hey, what about the labyrinth? Remember, we were going to play our harps as we walked the labyrinth?”
I couldn’t help but be a bit sour. “Yuh, walking up the trail they used to drag the Abbott and his assistants to their death, sounds like a cheerful activity.”
“But,” Jill said, “labyrinths are very healing. Maybe we should walk it.”
“So, are you saying you think we should walk to the top that way on the labyrinth path?” Somara was weighing the possibilities, pros and cons as she spoke.
Jill responded. “Yuh, if we can get there. It was just a thought. Although, we aren’t even sure if the path is still there. After all, it has been five centuries since it was used to transport the monks to the gallows.”
“I never realized we were actually going to be here. There is so much written about this place. I’ve read quite a bit, without knowing I would someday find it coming in handy.” Somara enlightened the others.
“I guess the ancients carved the spiral terraces to make it easier to journey up to the top and also to carry or drag needed items including stones with them.” Somara was appropriately interrupted.
Mary Jo’s sarcasm showed itself as she stated the truth. “ Yuh, it was easier to carry bodies to the top. I have a feeling our leaders from the monastery were not the only ones who died on this earthen mound.”
Somara continued. “Many theories exist about why there was such an unusual terracing around this giant hill.
Cyndy added more question. “Yet, the path is patterned like a labyrinth. So why or who used it for one?”
“This place is old.” Mary Jo concluded what several of us had trouble holding in our brain.
I had to make an admission. “I still can’t grasp how old other places are compared with the United States.”
Evelyn agreed with me. “We’ve gotten lost in our own little world. We’ve been blinded to the incredible realities of ancient tales. We have spent our energies smoldering about the short history of our country with its intolerable conflicts.”
Caren leaned forward with enthusiasm. “I see where you’re going with this. We are just a fresh dab of paint on a giant canvas of ancient accumulations of brush strokes.
"With a pottery metaphor, we are a wet clay pot beside ancient collections filling shelves in museums of ancient history. Maybe others have some other comparisons.” Caren looked around at the group.
Jill raised her hand for emphasis. “ It’s like putting a young sapling beside a chunk of petrified wood.”
Cordelia laughed. “I can’t resist this one. We think we’re going way back with bobby socks of the 50’s.”
I chuckled. “Ooof, that was a long time ago.”
Cordelia continued her point. “Let’s put those old ankle-cuffed socks beside…”
Cyndy raised her voice toyingly. “Don’t you say it…”
Cordelia picked up where she’d left off. ‘Let’s put those old ankle-cuffed socks beside the good ole, Coptic Socks.”
Cyndy knew things were going too far. “The thing you’re going to do next is to have me knitting freakishly-shaped socks, so we can all have a pair to wear with our sandals. No way.
“I already told Madeline we’re not going to market those monstrosities in this century. It’s time for us to look for a way up to the top of this ominous hill, anyway.”
Karin rescued her. “Cyndy is right. I don’t think we can comfortably approach the path from here.” Karin stood and began kicking the overgrown weeds and crab grass around, attempting to find signs of a medieval path. I think we are too far down to begin walking the more groomed labyrinth.”
“Does anyone have any guide to get up there.” I laughed at my question. “Ooof, we might have snatched one as we passed through the portal.”
“Ah, bummer, I must have left mine in the giant pocket of my monk habit or dress.” Cordelia knew she could get away with teasing Madeline.
Mary Jo made one of the best suggestions regarding our dilemma. “Maybe we can find someone around here who can tell us if there is another way up to the top besides those treacherous steps.”
Coptic socks were a roughly shaped garment to fit the foot for thongs or sandals popular in the 14th century and worn in the 16th century.
Below is a link for a visual of them. Do you think they would be popular in the 21st century?
https://www.dogpile.com/serp?qc=images&q=15th+century+Coptic+socks&sc=OfFaXjCH6NlW10
The leaders of the monastery were abducted by King HenryVIII by his soldiers and dragged in a wagon to the top of the Tor, to be hung. The king wanted the money the monastery had been accruing from donations.
Images of the Tor. Look at how tall it is & those steps with no railing:
https://www.dogpile.com/serp?q=Glastonbury+Tor&sc=oNVvIXIelrb710
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