VOX CANINA: the dog’s tale

dog's tale

VOX CANINA: the dog’s tale

        “Rrrr,” I am the Voice of Dog.

        My Master, Abbot Audenarde, becomes detached from the monastery and my life.  He digresses into death, vanishing, cut-off, concealed.  Dirt gulps him down.

        Abundant missing overflows.

        “Rrrr-Oooo,” to use abusive language and to inflame fierce bitterness.

        There follows a gloomy Mass to find pleasure in such a taking-away.

        Bearing affliction, discouraged, I adhere.  Adapt.

        “Rrrr-Oooo,” I accuse.

        At any time, please, someone else nourish, cherish me as did Master, Abbot Audenarde.  Commit to be near.  I would be indebted to receive a claim.

        The fawning young Monk Brabant is kindled to come and reach toward me.  He is ill with a constricted heart, scarcely brazen with favorable atmosphere.

        The summer tide of heat is without end.  Monk Brabant farms his acre field, a vineyard planted with trees.  He attacks knowledge with bitterness as we walk, “My father’s sister sent away the maidservant that I was fond of, that I cherished, that I loved.  It was not infatuation.  It was passion.

        Andegavense, my true angel: You have a niche in my constricted heart.  I could not turn the mind of my father’s sister.  She could not perceive the heart of you, my Andegavense, your vivacity, your spirit, your intellect.

        I was a goose.  A poor goose.  In place of you I had to put God.”

        Monk Brabant receives a notice sent by the Higher Tribunal.  He is summoned to approach the Altar.

        Monk Brabant is in the presence of the spider’s web behind the Altar.  Abbot Auxerre holds a money box, a coffin for silver.

        Abbot Auxerre asks Monk Brabant to fetch silver money to provide arms for the Crusade, instructing, “Plow skillfully the castle of Landlord Berlaimont.  He is rough and harsh to gaze at but take away with flattery silver or divert his avarice by removing gold.  Thus will you aid God.”

        Monk Brabant is like a pall-bearer with this burden of the money box.  Stammering, stuttering, fumbling he gives a dull kiss to the whiskers of the war-like Landlord Berlaimont.

        Monk Brabant then blesses with zeal Clois the daughter of Landlord Berlaimont.  Clois in silence listens.  Monk Brabant does not need to coax the alluring blandishments and charm from Clois.

        The beast Landlord Berlaimont quaffs twice a pail of strong drink.  He imbibes the flattery and accepts the fawning caresses of Monk Brabant.

        Like an ox the attention of Landlord Berlaimont is brief.  In brevity it plummets as Monk Brabant concludes, “God, Dweller in Heaven, looks down upon calamity, misfortune, and disaster.  The Crusade falters, trampled upon.  My Landlord, one as cunningly clever and subtly sly as yourself can hear the bell sing.  Seize the attack!  Comprehend the corruption and decay.”

        Landlord Berlaimont hearkens with a golden ear and says, “My great-great-great grandfather was dark with a cruelty that eroded his authority.  The privilege of benevolence I well better favor.  I kindly and generously will not allow Our Dweller in Heaven to topple and plummet from the sky.  If charity, a pebble of gold plucked or a stone of silver seized, happens to give ground to the Holy Attic, then swiftly I decide to separate from me a centum of gold and silver.  Clois?  See that this is so resolved.”

        Then Landlord Berlaimont falls headlong onto the table, assuredly to ruminate in the cloister beneath the hair of his head.

        Clois has been entrusted and she courteously escorts Monk Brabant hand to hand.

        Landlord Berlaimont abruptly sits up and drunkenly plucks his bow and sings himself a poem.

Dear beloved,

You are brought to naught,

Made void by fortune’s fetters

        Clois circumvents her father and chastely undertakes that which to herself is entrusted, to furnish opportunity and to serve God.

        Clois asserts, “I shall bestrew your purpose with silver and gold to restrain the ravishers and the corrupters,”

        Clois and Monk Brabant hold together and touch closely.  They continue uninterrupted, composed shaking and trembling.

        Clois leads Monk Brabant to her bed-chamber, saying, “I shall fill up your money box with silver and gold.  In this pact put together by my father, with what will God fill up my own capacity?”

        Monk Brabant stands firm.  Clois stitches their lips together

        I am left outside to protect and defend as Clois hurls closed the bedroom chamber door.

        They are taking an oath together.  I hear Monk Brabant praise God multiple times loudly.  I hear Clois sing an ascendant hymn.  They sow their obligations together copiously.

        Then I hear.

        Monk Brabant says, “To whom do you give it?”

        Clois says, “To he who is great.”

        Monk Brabant says, “Whose virtues are many?”

        Clois says, “To he who tends my chaste cradle.”

        Monk Brabant says, “A nest for young birds.”

       Clois says, “Oh, oh, place your eggs upon my nest.  We are morally bound…”

        Monk Brabant says, “To purge our souls…”

        And I hear Monk Brabant discharge his duty before he exclaims to God and declares his own death.

        I cannot endure another gloomy Mass to find pleasure in a taking-away.

        And so I am departing the castle of Landlord Berlaimont, I am abstaining the abbey of Monk Brabant, and thus I secede in a journey to find a life apart from nobles and monks.

        So, help me Dog.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

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