Lentils Forever
Katherine’s plan worked out perfectly. Her parents were on their way to Saskatoon, and she and Gargoth were staying with Cassandra at Candles By Daye for the week. Soccer camp started the next morning.
On their first day together, Katherine settled in the spare bedroom at the back of the store and shared her first dinner with Cassandra. At dinnertime Katherine was surprised (and a little worried) to discover that Cassandra was a vegetarian. Katherine found it odd that in all their time together, this fact had never come up, but it did explain why Cassandra never ate much when she visited their house for barbecues. Katherine suddenly felt horrified at all the times she or her mother or father had held a huge plate of steak in front of Cassandra, offering her something off the grill.
Good thing she’s so sweet,
she thought.
Cassandra’s meal consisted of mashed chick peas and lentils, which Katherine picked at gingerly. She moaned to herself that she was going to eat
a lot
of lentils during the week (and enviously looked over at Gargoth, who was gorging himself on apples, the only thing she had ever seen him eat). But since she had tortured Cassandra with steaks, she thought it was only fair that Cassandra get to torture her with lentils.
Katherine was sure that her tall friend was really happy to have them there and wanted everything to be perfect for them both.
That was difficult, because it was hard to make anything perfect for Gargoth. If you cared too much, you were liable to be hurt by his indifference. Katherine didn’t want to spend all week making excuses for Gargoth’s rudeness, but she’d do it if she had to. She was so grateful to Cassandra for keeping her in Toronto, and to her parents for letting her go to soccer camp (and not to a wedding of people she’d never met) that she’d do whatever it took. She would eat lentil stew. She would eat lentil soup. She would eat lentil cake and drink lentil tea, if there was such a thing. And be happy she was in Toronto.
On their first night as Cassandra’s guests, they relaxed on the rooftop amid blazing pumpkin candles. It was a soft, beautiful evening. Gargoth wiggled on his cushion, looking at the stars. Some of the candles had burned down to nearly nothing. Cassandra carried another box of pumpkin candles to the rooftop so Gargoth could replace any that had burned too low.
Cassandra was knitting and Katherine was thinking about what her soccer camp might be like the next day, when Gargoth spoke. “I think I should finish my story, Katherine. It is almost at an end. Where was I?”
Katherine thought for a while, then asked Cassandra. “What was the last thing I told you?”
Cassandra said immediately, “Gargoth and Philip made it to Ensemble, and Gargoth found Ambergine in the church. Well, I think you actually said that she found him.”
“Yes, that was it. You and Philip found the village, and you found Ambergine. Well, she found you.” Katherine and Cassandra waited as Gargoth shifted again. Katherine sensed that he was reluctant to speak. After a long pause, he cleared his throat.
“Yes, Ambergine found me. Right from the moment we met in the church belfry, we were inseparable. We were friends, brother and sister, sun and moon, black and white. She was as sweet as I was nasty. She was as kind as I was mean. She never doubted that we would be together always. Over the years, I began to forget what it was to be lonely.
“Very soon we discovered that we both carried the mark of the stonemason Tallus, and that made us closer than friends. We were family. Philip came to visit us now and then, and as he grew to be a man, then the head of a family, then an old country gentleman, he never failed to visit us on special occasions, or the first days of spring. When he was a very old man, he brought a young boy to meet us, his grandson Marcus.
“One day I saw a group of people dressed in black, gathered around a gravestone in the churchyard. Young Marcus was among them and found me secretly to tell me that his Grandfather Philip had died. I perched for many days and nights on Philip’s grave, only to discover a new pain which Ambergine called ‘sorrow’. I knew that no amount of faithful waiting would return my friend to me, though at times I see his happy face before me still…” Gargoth’s voice grew quiet. He shifted on his cushion, silent for a few moments, deep in thought.
“But we were not alone, since Marcus came now and then to visit us, bringing news of the world. In turn, Marcus grew to old age and chose a grandson to befriend us. For generations it went on. Ambergine and I lived in Ensemble for more than a hundred years, together and happy, safely hidden in the church belfry.
“And so we would still be today, if not for Ambergine’s desire to see the world.”
Clearly he didn’t want to go on, but Katherine asked him gently, “What happened then?”
With sadness in his voice, Gargoth said, “We left Ensemble. Philip’s great-grandson was a world traveller, and he told Ambergine wonderful stories of Europe and the composer Mozart. She wanted so badly to hear his music and to see the city of Paris that I finally agreed to be taken to that great place. We stowed away together in Philip’s great-grandson’s horse and cart one spring day, leaving our churchyard home. It was 1778, and Ambergine and I would never see Ensemble again.”
Gargoth’s voice was full of longing and sadness, and his head was turned away from his listeners. Even Cassandra, who could not understand a word, caught the change in his tone and dropped her knitting into her lap to look at him.
“Instead we lived at the great cathedral of Notre Dame in Paris.”
“Oh, yes! I’ve heard of it! That’s where all the famous gargoyles are!” Katherine jumped in.
Gargoth shot her a withering look. “Famous? Maybe. But dead. Not a single living gargoyle, just lifeless creatures of stone. I know because we lived among them for decades. We heard Mozart play his Paris Symphony, which was all the rage the summer of 1778. We heard the beautiful music lifting gently over the city to our home high atop the cathedral.
“We watched Paris go through a bloody revolution and a terrible war. We survived more plague and famine and disease.
“And then one night, disaster came to Notre Dame.” These last words Gargoth spat out bitterly.
“What happened?” Katherine asked, shocked.
“Thieves, Katherine. And my own failure…”
Here Gargoth fell silent and would not speak again. It was the end of his story, and despite her best efforts, Katherine could not get him to say another word. She told Cassandra everything he had said, and although she didn’t want to leave, she finally had no choice. She would have an entire day of soccer the next day, and she needed to get to sleep. She stood, hugged Cassandra, then said softly, “Goodnight, Gargoth. See you in the morning.”
But she may as well have saved her breath. Gargoth lay silent on his cushion, and except for the heaving of his little shoulders as he wept, he was still as stone. If he had been able to finish his story, this is what he would have said…
Thieves Take All
It was very early morning. The great bell had just stopped ringing the hour.
Gargoth rapped his claws against the cold stone wall before him. He was looking into the streets and alleys far below him, down to the foot of the great Notre Dame cathedral. The waking city of Paris lay at his feet. He was surrounded by an army of stone statues, most of them strange and frightening animals, lions and huge birds of prey. Here and there were also grotesque and bizarre gargoyles.
They were a bit like him, but none had his fine features, or his leathery skin, or his pouch. Most of them were simply rainspouts, there to direct water into the street far below. Gargoth had watched many times as unsuspecting people in the streets were soaked by the gargoyles spouting rainwater far above them.
And none of the statues was alive.
He leaned over the stone wall, intently watching a child in the street far below him. The child was alone and begging for food from passersby. No one stopped to help him, though, even people who looked as if they had plenty of food to spare. The street was very busy with people going here and there, and many were carrying baskets overflowing with bread or apples or cheese. The stores were just beginning to open, and merchants, bakers, farmers and storekeepers were bringing their wares into the streets and to the square before the cathedral.
But no one would help the small beggar boy.
Gargoth watched for a while with a deep frown upon his face. Eventually he turned away and waddled to an alcove in the stone wall, a hidden cave behind the stone statues.
Ambergine was inside. She had just come back from a night-time raid on the local apple orchard and was emptying out her pouch, which was bulging with apples.
Gargoth walked to her side and put out his claw. “Apple,” he grunted. She placed an apple in his claw and followed him out into the statues and back to the wall.
Gargoth was sizing up the child on the street far below again.
ZING! The apple flew and landed near the child. It rolled harmlessly to the boy’s feet. They both watched as the child fell upon the apple and ran off, taking big bites as he ran.
“He’s new,” Ambergine sighed.
“Is he? I hadn’t noticed. He looks like all the others to me.” Gargoth began rapping his claws on the stone wall once again, looking out over the streets and alleys of Paris as the rich and poor lived out their lives below him.
None of them knew there were living gargoyles high above them, keeping watch over them all.
Ambergine went back to the stone cave for her breakfast. She chewed quietly on an apple. She didn’t want to tell Gargoth about a troubling incident in the orchard a few nights before. She had quietly been picking apples when she’d heard some men talking nearby. They had very rough voices and sounded like dangerous and unpleasant men.
One man was saying, “I saw it too. Just there—like a great flying bat.”
The other said, “Yes, and it wasn’t the first time. I heard the farmer say he sees this great bat all the time.”
Ambergine froze as she realized the men were talking about her. She stayed very quiet, hidden in an apple tree as they searched the orchard at her feet, but they didn’t find her.
As soon as she could, she flew away into the darkness, flying from treetop to treetop until she made it back to the cathedral and safety.
But she couldn’t shake a sense of worry. She had been especially careful the night before in the orchard but couldn’t help feeling that she was being followed.
It would be difficult to follow her there, though. There were 422 long stone steps between them and the street far below, and humans rarely visited their part of the cathedral, except once in a while when a few men climbed up to a tiny wooden doorway nearby. It was their job to inspect the ancient bricks and walls at the top of the cathedral, to make sure they weren’t crumbling into the streets below. It was the only time Gargoth and Ambergine had to worry about being discovered.
They were among hundreds of stone statues and gargoyles, after all. If someone came upon them, they simply had to stay still and blend in. It was the perfect place for a pair of gargoyles to stay hidden and safe.
The rest of that day went by as usual. The two gargoyles slept then kept the pigeons off the nearby statues (for who wanted to live with pigeons fouling everything?). They sat and listened to the music of the evening chapel fill the air and talked quietly together amid the beautiful voices rising in song. Gargoth smoked his pipe in peaceful silence.
As that warm fall day faded into glowing early evening, the gargoyles were playing Troll-my-Dame (a kind of very old game of marbles) with small rounded stones. Ambergine hardly ever won, since Gargoth was a much better shot than she was.
As it grew dark, she and Gargoth stopped their game and were watching the city below them slowly go to sleep. Suddenly an unusual sound made both gargoyles freeze.
The tiny wooden doorway nearby creaked open. Ambergine looked at Gargoth, who whispered “
Shhh
” at her and started to tiptoe toward the noise.
“No, Gargoth! Come this way,” she begged, but he wasn’t listening.
He continued toward the noise, curious. “Who would possibly be climbing to the top of the cathedral tonight?” he thought. “The door must have blown open with the breeze.”
But Ambergine suddenly grew very worried.
“It’s dark enough,” Gargoth whispered. “I can hide quickly if I have to.” He crept slowly among the statues toward the tiny door. Paris glowed in the background as the sun set in the west.
Ambergine stood beside the opening to their stone cave, listening.
“I saw them up here, tossing apples into the street, just over there,” one man said. He had an ugly voice. And she had heard it before!
“Shush, they might’ve heard you!” another angry voice hissed.
Ambergine was very frightened now. She could just make out Gargoth in the gloom edging towards the voices. She made a quick decision.
She wasn’t very big, but she was strong. She planted her squat feet against the stone wall and pushed with all her might. She pushed and pushed. She could feel the ancient brick wall behind her soften and give with her weight. She pushed again, and with a loud, grinding sound, part of the brick wall fell onto the stone floor.
The men stopped and turned toward her. Ambergine saw candle-light flicker over nearby statues as they turned toward the sound. The men began to move toward her, but Gargoth was in the way. They would see him first!
In desperation, Ambergine jumped onto the wall and began to shout, “Hey! Stupid ugly men! Over here!”
Many things happened then. The men shouted and ran toward Ambergine. Gargoth shouted too and jumped from his hiding place, directly into the path of the chasing men. He jumped up onto the wall behind her, and both gargoyles moved as quickly as they could along the wall, almost at a run. But having very short, thick legs, they didn’t move fast enough, and in no time the men were upon them.
Gargoth was right behind Ambergine. “RUN! You must! FASTER!” he cried. But it was no use.
Two heavy hands grabbed for Ambergine, who jumped off the wall and flew out of harm’s way, hovering high over the city and just out of reach. But Gargoth was surrounded. He looked frantically at Ambergine.
“JUMP, GARGOTH! FLY!” she screamed, but it was too late. As Gargoth hesitated, too afraid to leap off the stone wall and try to fly to safety, a sturdy cloth sack landed over his head.
The thieves had their prize. They laughed to hear the little flying gargoyle sob and cry, and they shook Gargoth’s cloth sack cruelly. They took him far away and sold him to traders who stole him over the ocean. He began a new life many, many months later, in New York City, lonely, lost and dejected without Ambergine. He refused to speak, eat or drink for many months, but none of his captors cared enough to notice.
It was 1860, and he would be held prisoner alone a long, long time. Over the dreary years, Gargoth would change hands many times and had many different owners. His first owner was a sea captain who lost Gargoth in a card game. His second was a circus ringmaster who made him dance for the circus performers after dark. The next was a kindly travelling vendor, and a friend. The fourth, and last, was a horrible, spoiled, heartbroken little boy who lived in a dark mansion above New York City and who grew into a horrible, lonely, twisted old man. He was Gargoth’s greatest enemy.
He calls himself The Collector, and if you’ve been paying close attention (which I’m sure you have), although you’ve just learned his name, you’ve already met him in this story three times. He’s been watching and waiting, hiding and sneaking, with one thing on his mind: he wants Gargoth back, and he doesn’t care what he has to do, or who he has to hurt, to get him. Which is how he got Gargoth in the first place…