Fox Tales Anthology II

By Dee Carey

Back in the deep recesses before the time of natural law, it was established the world needed a disinterested panel to oversee the business of mankind...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Writers Branding LLC
• Release date: Aug 23, 2023
• ISBN: 9781639457472

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Acknowledgements

I thank my amazing critique partner, Steve Yates.

And last but certainly not least, the best editor I’ve ever had the pleasure of working with Debby Gilbert.

THE 11TH COMMANDMENT

Cast of Characters

Prologue

Scotland 420AD

Back in the deep recesses, before the time of natural law, it was established the world needed a disinterested panel to oversee the business of mankind . . .

High above the land was a suspended mist that housed a board of wizards, priests, and seers. Under the direction of the Ancient Ones, they were directed to guide the course of man’s affairs.

When corruption was discovered, they selected from the earth a pair of innocents. Upon the intercession of the Blessed Virgin, one of these transformed into a fox, whose size and cunning permitted access to areas humans could not reach. The remaining innocent took whatever form the board deemed useful.

This is the legend of The Eleventh Commandment, The Fox and the Gargoyle. This pair, like so many before them, was to attain human-hood by their devotion to God.

Chapter 1

SEAN

I knew better than to mess with the forces of evil. Oh, I knew better, but never thought it would come to this.

The bullies would leave me alone now. I slowly rose from the dirt and brushed it off my tunic. They scattered like mice from a sinking ship. In my brief lifetime, all I ever wanted was to be a part of something, to have some worth, to be accepted like the other boys in the village. Constantly the object of their scorn, I distinctly remember the moment in that final humiliation when he stepped in. Damien Darke promised not only would I be accepted, but I would be far superior to those who belittled me. All he had to do was stand above the dirty cowards. He stood tall, an imposing man. Suave and sleek, he was immaculate in his dress with long, slender perfectly manicured fingers. He represented all that I desired, with a magnetism I so coveted for my own. I sensed, but did not heed, he was also dangerous. The others clearly knew and scattered, not even daring to shout taunts at me as they usually did.

And Damien asked so little, all I had to do was report the comings and goings of Patrick. Patrick took me in, fed and clothed me when I had no home or family. I reasoned that since I am with him all the time, what could it hurt if I tell Damien Darke? Surely, the churchman had no cause for shame. Nothing I could say about him would bring him harm. I thought what I had agreed to do might not meet with Patrick’s approval, but he was so good I was sure no evil could harm him.

Patrick called as Damien slunk away into the nothingness from whence he came. There was a faint scent of sulfur in the air. Patrick caught it at once. He narrowed his eyes as he approached me.

Sean, who have you been talking to?

I hung back into the shadows of the small wooded glen, feeling I’d done something wrong, but was not sure what it was.

Ah, no one, I’m here alone, I replied haltingly. I prayed the forest would swallow me up. Holding myself tightly, I crossed my arms and lowered my head.

Patrick drew himself to his full height and placed his hands on his hips. Boy, don’t think to lie to me. I’ve given you every advantage, this is no way to treat a benefactor.

For a reason I did not understand, I began to tremble. I was more frightened than I’d ever been. In my heart I knew Patrick would never harm me, yet I flinched as the clergyman moved toward me as the thought of my evil action engulfed me. As I moved backward, my feet became entangled in the vines growing among the saplings. I was young and more agile than the bishop, so I quickly evaded him and headed for the small dwelling we shared and hurried toward my secret hole behind the hut. His footfalls hit the shack mere seconds behind mine.

I thought he knew nothing of my so-called sanctuary, but Patrick reached in and grabbed me by my tunic and held me fast.

Roughly, he pushed me into our humble dwelling and removed the small vial from the cord about his robe. Picking me up as if I were a small child, he set me firmly down on the stool beside the hearth, then moved to our dining table and picked up a cup.

Pouring the water from the vial into the cup, he placed it before me. Towering over me, he handed it to me and indicated I was to drink. I took the cup and raised it to my lips, though I was certain the liquid would not be to my liking, I drank as he bid.

Strange feelings flooded through my body. My blood seemed to curdle in my veins, and within my heart a great battle was being waged. I was being punished for a sin far more grievous than I could ever have imagined. Vanity must be a far greater sin than mere theft. I fell onto all fours. I looked back over my shoulder and noted I now had a tail, a thick white plume of a tail. My back was covered with a russet fur. I held out my hands and saw they were now paws, covered with a shiny black fur.

This is what happens when you fall prey to evil. I knew deep within my heart that my transformation was tempered by Patrick. Had I no protector, I would have burned for my sin. What seemed a harmless trade was far more, and the price paid was greater than I assumed at the onset of the bargain. I fled the hut and stamped the ground, but my padded paws made no impression on the soft grass. I felt helpless, that my existence was little noticed. More frightened than I’d ever been in my short lifetime, I’d become as nothing. Perhaps I could have endured the hazing of the village boys if I had only known the consequences? Anything would have been better than this.

Patrick leaned down beside me. Tears were forming in his eyes. Sean, you have been in the company of the devil. You listened, and agreed to work for him. For that you are relegated to be an animal. I tried to lessen the punishment, but I can do no more than this. You will remain with me as my pet and I will care for you all of your days.

I pressed my furred body into the dirt. It was hopeless. I should have known. Surely, the Christ who had died for us all could intercede for me. I implored Patrick to speak for me. Yet, I knew he’d done all he dared.

I had disrupted his thoughts and his way of life. Oh, would it ever be as it was? We were free to travel and preach of the Lord’s goodness. I had ruined his plan. What would become of me? How will I survive in an animal body? I don’t know how to forage or hunt. For a certainty, I would starve. But, was it fair I be punished so grievously for my sin? Surely, there were those who stole and murdered, who should suffer more gravely than I? Yet, who was I to determine the reason of God?

The cleric replaced the vial to its cord and said, Come, Sean, we must rest and prepare for our journey as the pope himself has summoned us. We will leave for Rome in the morning. I guess there is no sense in your packing, as you now have no need for clothing.

As a fox, I looked up at him, and saw his eyes were brimming with tears. Where could we be going and why were we leaving all I had ever known? Had the great pope sent him a message by pigeon? I felt even more abandoned than I did as an orphan. Yet, I had the company of Patrick, a man I was fortunate to even know. I watched as he gathered his meager belongings and fell onto his pallet, laying his head upon the crude pillow. I jumped up to the ledge that held my bedding and burrowed among the blankets. Exhausted as the change had made me, I quickly slipped into slumber.

When I arose, the sky was clear and cloudless. The hut we’d shared was devoid of any hint of our existence. All our provisions Patrick had packed in a tight bundle and slung it across the back of his large horse. Apparently Patrick had worked through the evening hours as he’d constructed a small cage for me. He’d fashioned a carrier of leather drawn over a wooden frame.

It was large enough for me to stand in or lay as I chose. Across the front of the carrier there was a simple flap that could be closed in inclement weather and left open while riding to observe the land around us. This method of transport pleased me well. We’d been walking for several miles and the sun was high, when the cleric indicated we would stop for a rest.

Finding a large oak tree near the edge of a meadow, he removed the bundle and spread out his blanket for a table and upon it placed a few hard biscuits and some salted meat. Refreshed after a meal and a short nap, we again headed out for Rome.

The day seemed endless to me. I felt my meager meal rise in my throat with the rocking motion of the horse. The animal was gentle and I am sure meant me no harm, yet I felt as I imagined sailors feel before they get their sea legs. I forced down the bile and lay within my enclosure as close to the bottom as possible. Patrick had an overlarge draft horse named Ox. As he had little value as a farm horse, Patrick acquired the animal for little coin. Though massive, Ox had a gentle nature and was happy to serve Patrick.

Ox was undisturbed by the additional weight on his back. He did not mind another animal riding upon him, as many horses did. His back was broad and flat and easily held my carrier. I knew I would soon accommodate myself to the rocking motion.

I was just beginning to feel comfortable as the sun was low in the sky. The pink haze indicated the next day would be auspicious for travel. Patrick had not spoken throughout our journey. I was certain he was praying for guidance, as he was usually loquacious. He sat upon Ox and his head was lowered. As if he just noticed the darkness, he lifted his head and said, Good heavens! How much time has passed? I’m sorry, Sean, I did not realize it was so late. We must sleep or we will not have the stamina to continue.

Ox stopped, and Patrick slid down from his back. He removed the carrier and allowed me to step on the firm ground. Strangely, I once again felt dizzy as I had not regained my land legs.

Patrick found an area covered by the long boughs of a willow perched at the edge of a crystal stream. He opened his pack, laid out blankets and cleared an area for a fire.

I did not like the fire and backed away from the flames. My own reaction to the blaze surprised me. As a boy I’d always enjoyed the warmth of a cook fire and the resulting smells. However, as an animal, I fear it. My conflicting emotions frightened me. Would I have to spend my entire life as an animal or could I perform some service that would grant me reprieve? Surely, there is more to this transformation than was currently apparent. Why would I, an animal, be summoned to Rome by the pope himself?

The road from Scotland to Rome proved a long and treacherous journey. The churchman was well acquainted with journeys and hardship. He had been a slave in Ireland and Patrick knew well the dangers, but I was only excited by the glamour of it.

The Patrick and Ox rested near the fire and finally drifted off to sleep. I chose to sleep farther away from the flames. Finally I fell asleep. The question in my mind couldn’t be resolved so I gave up my cares to the Lord.

I awoke to a loud flapping. Patrick was shaking out his bedroll and gathering the pot from the extinguished fire. Well, lad, we must not tarry, we need to cover as much ground as possible. Rome is a long way from here and as we are summoned, we must arrive as quickly as we can. However, we must pace ourselves lest we sicken and cannot perform our duty.

My stomach gnawed and growled in protest that we would not be eating right away.

How had we been summoned? Even though I wanted to ask at the moment, I could not speak. I saw no such message delivered. Patrick tightened the cinch on Ox’s saddle and secured the carrier for me. I jumped up onto Ox and poked my head in the contraption Patrick had constructed. I turned within the small enclosure and stuck out my snout. He must have seen the hunger in my eyes for he offered me a piece of dried meat and a bit of biscuit through the flap of the carrier. Biting into the meat, I pretended it tasted better than it actually did. It was cold, hard and not in the least satisfying. The biscuit was tasty, though, and I devoured every bite. I knew it would be some time before we ate again and I prayed my stomach would not be too loud in its protest. It was also clear that whatever directive Patrick had received, I, too, was a part.

BISHOP PATRICK (Patricius Magonus Sucatus)

I’d endured much in my wanderings. Perhaps that was the reason I was protective of the boy. Though Sean wasn’t a slave, he nonetheless needed my guidance and shield. He was kind, a somewhat fey lad, and I enjoyed his company. How he’d fallen prey to Damien Darke was both a mystery and burden to me. I did not realize how often the village boys taunted him. How could I have allowed one of my own to become enamored of this treacherous evil? I knew the tall man’s slick enticements, yet I failed to keep the boy free of them.

Though I knew he could have paid a dearer price for his sin, I firmly believed in the Lord’s forgiveness. My association with the Blessed Mother was his saving grace. Mary’s fondness for foxes permitted me to transform Sean into a fox as she instructed. She told me he was a part of a grand plan to save mankind. I could tell the lad was very uncomfortable with the alteration. There was no way of my knowing how long the situation would exist and how the lad fit into God’s plan. He did not appear too distressed with the riding carrier I made for him. Resting at the opening, he observed all that was around him during our journey.

It was nearly nightfall of the second day of our trip and I was exhausted from the many hours in the saddle. Though probably an easier trip for Sean, but he too appeared anxious to rest. Fortunately, I’d paced us so we could easily continue in the morning.

As the sun drifted below the hills, I opened the carrier and removed Sean. He looked up at me imploringly with sad dark brown eyes. I knew he felt I’d betrayed him. How could the man he followed, without question, do this to him? Though I searched my mind and heart I found no answer.

We came upon a small tavern not far from the tree where I tied Ox. There was thick succulent grass growing around it that would sate the horse’s hunger. After Sean and I ate, I would bring him some oats. Ox was a valued member of our team. I’m sure he, too, was chosen for this task.

What I failed to consider, however, was how was I going to bring a fox into a tavern? It was not the most grand as such taverns go, but seemed pleasant enough. The main entrance was open and welcoming. A very stout gentleman invited me in and when he noticed the fox, he smiled. Sean was welcome as well.

Well now, mister, don’t see many fellers traveling with a fox. How did you come by taming him to follow you like that?

I did not have to train him, he follows of his own accord. The man nodded and turned away from me into the misty smoke filled tavern. When he turned back, he had ale and a piece of meat in his hand.

He won’t bite me, will he?

He shook his head no and he offered the meat to the fox.

The animal drew back his lip and daintily took the meat. He finished it in short order and once again looked to the tavern owner for another piece.

This lad is one hungry fox. You’d think he hadn’t eaten in a fortnight, the innkeeper responded with a smile. It was clear the man envied me my unusual pet.

Don’t suppose you’d sell him, would you?

Since I don’t own him, I cannot sell him. As I said, he follows as he wishes, not at my whim.

The tavern master shook his head. I never did see the like of it.

Have you a room where we might rest for the night? We have been on the road for many hours and are very tired.

Of course, the fox sleeps with you?

That is generally his choice. Unlike most foxes, this one is not nocturnal.

Not nocturnal, well that explains his hunger. Doesn’t hunt for himself, eh?

He’s been with me for some time and I have always provided for him, so there is no need for him to hunt. I felt no need to further explain Sean’s recent transformation.

The innkeeper seemed satisfied with this situation and indicated the stairway. Right up there, sir, on the right. Nice and cozy, big pillow up there for your fox, if he wants.

Thank you that is most kind. Sean raced by me and stood at the door. He wanted to be with me alone, where he did not fear becoming something’s prey.

I unrolled my bedding and placed it on the narrow bed against the wall. Sean jumped up and pulled a corner of it to the edge of the pallet. He turned round and round in the manner of a dog and finally settled down. Just then there was a tap at the door. I went to open it. In the opening was a small woman with a cherubic face holding a tray laden with sweetmeats. They smelled heavenly. Even Sean sniffed the air with satisfaction.

Thank you, miss, this is most kind.

Me pap sez you are hungry, and even though it’s late, he thought you might like a bit of supper. I’ve brought cheese and bread as well.

Thank you so much, and do thank your father. I shall bring down the tray in the morning if that suits the innkeeper.

It will suit him fine. Enjoy your meal.

I heard her pad her way down the stairs and turned to the tray she left. Sean was devouring the sweetmeats. I took a small one and placed it to my lips and noted an odor not usually associated with sweetmeats. An inner voice gave warning—this food was tainted. I set down the uneaten piece and ordered Sean to do the same. Unfortunately he’d already swallowed many of the sweetmeats.

Hurriedly, I opened the door and headed down the stairs to confront the tavern owner.

Sir, your daughter brought me and my fox some sweetmeats and I believe they are tainted.

The innkeeper looked puzzled. Good sir, I have no daughter.

No daughter? Then what fiend intended poisoning me?

I do not know. No one else has been in the tavern since early this morning. A tall, very distinguished gentleman, but he’s been long gone and did not appear to be the sort of man who would poison someone.

I understand. Thank you, I shall see to my fox now as he consumed quite a number of sweetmeats. I raced back up the stairs, fearful of what I might find. There, on the bed clothes, lay Sean, his stomach distended. Drool escaped his mouth and he was convulsing. I had to do something. But what? I knew he’d been poisoned, and furthermore believed I knew who the culprit was.

I took a cloth and washed his snout and cradled him in my arms. Please, Sean, fight this. You cannot die. The Blessed Mary gave me you to protect. I cannot fail in my mission for her.

The fox looked up with glazed eyes and fell limp in my arms. I yelled down to the tavern master, Innkeeper, please bring me some clean water and some of your finest whiskey.

The stout gentleman answered quickly, I’ve sent for the herb woman, she’ll see to your pet. And you as well, if you ate anything tainted.

I didn’t know if I could trust the man. After all, I’d nearly lost both Sean and my mission within his establishment. But, he could have lied and said he did have a daughter. Clearly as he did not, he was an honest man.

Carefully I cleaned Sean’s mouth, washing out what I could and praying he’d not eaten so much that he would never recover. As he was but a young lad when we’d met, I was certain he’d never consumed spirits and hoped the whiskey would shock him out of his convulsions.

I pried open the fox’s mouth and dribbled in the whiskey. His eyes flew open and he began to cough. I set him upright and he was able to stand on his own.

What happened? someone asked. I looked around and saw no one.

Who could have spoken to me? Sean seemed to be staring at me. Could it have been he?

Yes, I spoke to you. I know not how, but my thoughts are in your head. Though incredible, I knew such to be the case. The Blessed Mother herself had fashioned this communication method for us. I knelt in prayer and felt the fox at my side.

We have a long road ahead of us, Sean. Do you understand your importance now?

I do.

SEAN

For one so long lacking in companionship, so tormented he allowed the devil to tempt him, I was the most fortunate of lads. I’d been chosen. The task was not yet clear, but I knew Patrick would make the mission understandable in my mind. He would know what to do and when to do it.

I allowed my muddled mind to dwell on events past. The day at the well was foremost in my mind. Actually it had been a spring near Tobermory, named to honor the Blessed Mother. There was a small chapel and a clear spring that rose from the middle of a wooded grove. I thought it to be an unlikely place to find a shrine devoted to the Virgin Mary. It seemed to appear from nowhere. However, this was where she was revered and Patrick was zealous in his devotion. I knew I was part of some grand plan, but what my part was to be, was a mystery to me. We were now undertaking a mission and I would be wise to follow the direction of Bishop Patrick.

DAMIEN DARKE

That fool girl couldn’t handle the most simple of tasks. She’d not done the deed and left a clear trail for the cleric to follow if he chose. However, I thought he would not consider seeking me out until he’d done the pope’s bidding. I would find another way to thwart him. I drew my hooded cloak tightly around my shoulders and slipped silently from the tavern.

Certain Patrick would deduce I was the culprit, I would use every precaution to avoid him. This was a long, and hopefully treacherous journey. Many manner of ills could hamper them and I would make certain every evil I could employ would befall them.

I hated Rome and all its pomp. Though I envied the pope his fine surroundings and the wealth of the Vatican, I was uncomfortable in religious settings. Not since I’d tempted Eve had I encountered such an easy prey. The boy was eager to do my bidding all for a little sense of belonging. What had become of him? He was not with Patrick at the inn. I knew Patrick would not abandon the lad. He must have sent him on some errand and I did not notice his return. Or perhaps the lad had run off. He seemed easily duped and eager for adventure.

Though I did not favor Italy, I knew several ways to enter Vatican City. It was clear I would gain more if I knew why Patrick was summoned, thus I would complete the journey without shadowing the Scotsman.

Patrick was a somewhat strange man. He asked little for himself and only sought to improve the lot of others. Hogwash. No one should be that selfless. There were countries to be won, fortunes to amass and power over all. These were my goals, and I failed to understand how one so lacking in avarice gained so much for so little effort. He’d been a slave of the Wild Irish, yet he bore them no ill will. Were it I so captured, I would employ every method at my disposal to extract revenge.

The man is a fool.

I stuck to back roads and little-known routes through the whole of France. From time to time I caught sight of Patrick and a red fox that seemed to be following wherever he went, into churches, inns and even the homes of peasants. I was certain, however, the animal would not be welcomed at the residence of the pope. The Great Pope Leo would not accept into his household a cur, a wild animal. I perceived this was no ordinary fox. Though I’d seen them together only briefly, there seemed to be a communication between them. I’d not heard any actual speech, yet I sensed recognition in the animal’s eyes that I’d not seen in others.

SEAN

Patrick spoke little to me as we rode through France. It is a gorgeous country, but Patrick is oblivious to its beauty. We’d been on the road several hours today and I was growing weary of the rocking motion of the horse. Though the animal’s broad back offered some stability, I was uncomfortable. All I really wanted was to go home and forget all this nonsense about being a fox. I wanted it to be a bad dream.

But it was not and I’d come to believe I’d been chosen by the Virgin herself. I’d little time to dwell on the situation when Patrick pulled up on Ox’s reins. The sudden stop caused my carrier to loosen and fall to the ground.

Oh, good heavens, Sean, are you hurt? I guess I wasn’t thinking.

Frankly, I think the opposite is the truth. You were thinking too hard and failed to notice your surroundings.

You’re probably right, Sean, I’ve been pondering our mission. Why were we chosen, and why are you a fox? There is far more to this than I can understand. I hope the Holy Father can shed some light on the matter.

I nodded my agreement and climbed out of the fallen carrier, then jumped up to pull down Patrick’s bedroll from the back of the saddle.

Patrick picked up the carrier and set it near his bedroll. Though he was weary and eager to rest, he carefully removed the tack from Ox and led the horse to a grassy patch near the stream where we would spend the night. A willow dipped its branches into the swift running stream. Ox came to the water to slake his thirst.

I was puzzled that I could communicate with Patrick, a human, but was unable to converse with Ox. However, the situation didn’t seem to trouble the animal any. He shook his large head, snorted and hit the ground with his massive hoof. He had a way of looking at me that gave me pause. Though I could not read his thoughts, his intent was made clear in his eyes. He too knew we were on a special mission.

Sean, we must rest if we are to get an early start.

I know, and I too am weary.

The night was still, almost too still, no hooting of owls, or quiet scampering of small rodents. No wind stirred the air; the silence was oppressive. It hung over us like a dark velvet curtain. Perhaps it was a newly acquired animal sense, or mayhap the Virgin was giving me warning. Something foul was afoot. I knew for a certainty evil was about to befall us.

I heard a rustling in the grasses, then what sounded like a cough, and heavy footfalls approaching the stream.

It was clear we had been followed, but for what purpose? What could anyone gain from hindering us? We had no coin or riches of any sort. Neither would our demise benefit anyone. So who was skulking about?

It was then my animal senses detected the odor of Damien Darke. The sinister scent hovered ominously over our camp. Patrick was otherwise occupied and did not notice anything amiss. I circled around him again and again. Finally, I garnered his attention.

Patrick, Darke is here.

How can you be certain of this, Sean? I see no one.

He is here, I assure you. That smell is unmistakable.

I do not doubt you, lad, but why would he follow us?

It was a question I’d asked myself and could find no answer for it. Even as I thought of the villain’s presence, the scent was dissipating. He’d moved away. Apparently we no longer interested him.

Chapter 2

The End of the Journey BISHOP PATRICK

It had been a long journey and we were both road weary. Dusk was settling in as we approached the golden spires of the Vatican. I tapped the side of Sean’s carrier and lifted the flap. Sean stepped out onto Ox’s broad back. The horse stopped and gave the fox the opportunity to gain his footing. Sean stood and surveyed his surroundings. I could see the little fox was impressed by the grander of the center of the Catholic faith. It was a magnificent structure. I’d not remembered the details of the architecture and was humbled by its majesty.

We walked quietly from the main vestibule toward a large carved door.

The door opened and the pontiff himself appeared.

I dropped to my knees and kissed his extended ring. He took my hand and drew me to my feet.

Pope Leo acknowledged the fox at my heels. He did not seem to resent the presence of the animal. Rather, he seemed to expect it. Kneeling, he reached to pet Sean, giving little heed to his pristine vestments. Sean pushed his head against the pontiff’s palm, causing the cleric to smile and scratch the fox’s ears.

Well, young lad, we have work to do, Leo said, addressing the fox. Apparently there was a communication between the pope and the fox. One with as much ease as existed between Sean and me. I continue to marvel over Sean’s transformation and the circumstances that occur because of it.

While still on his knees, Pope Leo the Great continued to speak to Sean. Lad, I want to speak with Patrick alone and would appreciate it if you would search my home and discover what you can. The cleric addressed Sean and pointed to the marble corridor.

The fox nodded and promptly left. I could hear his nails clicking against the floor in the marbled hall.

SEAN

Everywhere I looked, I saw splendor. I never expected to view such a fine structure. My home, the pope had called it. This must be far more than a home. As I walked slowly along the hallway I noted an odor, a strange, pungent smell that hung in the air. It was causing my eyes to water. Though I found it mostly unpleasant, I felt compelled to find its source.

I moved from the center of the hallway to the side and sniffed at every doorway along the corridor. Finally I found an opening that emitted the strongest scent.

I entered and found there a long rug of crimson that stretched from the doorway to the far side of the room. At the end of the carpet was a table, elaborately carved and covered with a fine linen cloth that had been embroidered by a talented seamstress. The legs of the table depicted a fox running about the circumference of the leg. The carving was so small I doubted anyone other than I might have noticed it. And I am fairly certain it was placed there for a purpose.

Walking beneath the table, I noted a small door on