The Golden Cup

By Ranae Wischmann and Lydia Sanchez

When a young man named Pablo Augustine first sees a golden cup in the dirt outside the church, it sets him on a course of adventure and discovery he would never have imagined possible. His life in the quiet Spanish colonial town of Tomé had be

• Language: English
• Publisher: RANAE WISCHMANN
• Release date: Apr 6, 2024
• ISBN: 9798989889112

Ranae Wischmann

Ranae Wischmann is the life partner of Lydia Sanchez and the co-author of this book. She has worked in the financial industry for forty years. She also had the added benefit of spending her life with Lydia, a brilliant and talented scholar, poet, and intellectual, from whom she learned so much. Her labor of love and life-mission after the death of her partner was to complete, edit, and publish the beautiful, charming story she wrote.

Book preview

The Golden Cup

Lydia Sanchez

and

Ranae Wischmann

Illustrated by Paul Murray

Editorial Advice and Formatting

by RJM Creative Arts

Albuquerque, New Mexico

Copyright © 2024 by Ranae Wischmann

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.

Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

Published under the imprint of

High Desert Libris

A division of RJM Creative Arts

Albuquerque, NM

The Golden Cup/Ranae Wischmann, 1st ed

ISBN: 979-8-9898891-1-2

Dedication

A special acknowledgement and thank you to

RJ Mirabal, Paul Murray,

and Anne Sandry.

Their tireless work, help and encouragement made this book possible and I am forever grateful.

ONE

Apparition

In the old Spanish New Mexico village of Tomé, centuries ago, the people of the village built a lovely medieval church of adobe and stone. Within this church there was a life-sized figure of Jesus in death. The figure  rested beneath a side altar in a crib of wood and fine cloth. The statues of St. Michael and St. Joan of Arc kept watch amid a company of angels.

  Within this village lived a 17 year-old boy named Pablo Augustine. Pablo attended this little mission church to sit and think of life and its vicissitudes. He especially liked to just relax and watch the rays of the afternoon sun as they crisscrossed the floor and wall, motes of dust floating in the air looking like little sail ships. On many of these visits he noticed traces of cosmetics smeared on the lips and faces of the statues. Thus he knew there were amorous visitors nightly; people who were as enamored of this night world as he was.

  Following one of those visits, he crept back at night and beheld a visitor in the inner room clad in white diaphanous garments and gently embracing the statues. He recognized her. She was Doña Soledad who lived nearby so she could be continually at all services of the church. As he glanced through the window he saw the glimmering of a chalice or cup in the sand nearby.

  He knew this had been a santuario of the Penitente brotherhood in the past, so he naturally took it to be some cup they had lost in one of their services. He went out to see it closer, but as he approached he saw it was made of tin and was quite ordinary. It must have been the moonlight which made it shine so. He brushed it off, took it into the church, and left it on the altar. He then withdrew, thinking he would return the following day and wash the dust and grime off the utensil.

The next day, however, the cup had disappeared. It seemed an odd and curious thing to happen, so Pablo determined to seek it further and began to pray. Gradually, he decided to go home and read awhile as he waited for he knew not what. He had a sense of waiting but was not even dimly aware of what it could be. As he entered his room, weariness overcame him and he lay down on his bed to rest.

  He dreamt he was walking and beheld a beautiful lake. In front of it was a hut. Beside the hut sat an old woman who pointed within with a stick. When he entered the hut, he saw a bright light, then he awoke. His feelings upon waking were perplexing and strange.

    He felt he must walk, so he began to walk in the fields. He noticed the yellow grain and each little head of grain seemed to nod and wink at him. It was as if all nature had opened up and let him into its secrets. An inner voice spoke to him. And, as he glanced about, he saw more, felt more, and heard more than he ever had before. His senses were opened, accessible to the wonders and beauties about him.

  In this heightened state, he walked into the village proper where he saw the beautiful Doña Leonor as she wended her way to visit her friend Doña Soledad. Every time he encountered her, almost daily, he marveled at her exquisite figure and form, clad in stately black garments. He realized he had an attachment and emotional involvement with these ladies, one for her spiritual attainments, the other for her beauty and grace.

  Little did he know that both the older Doña Soledad and the young and beautiful Leonor were quite high in spiritual gifts and that these qualities were the basis for their platonic love and friendship. He saw them leave the stately home of Doña Soledad and make their way toward the church.

  All this time he stood beneath a cottonwood tree, shielding his eyes from the sun. He walked home and returned to the book he had been reading, Don Quixote de la Mancha. Later he ate a small meal of lamb, beans, tortillas, and chile with some good milk and coffee to drink. Then he found another volume which had stories about knights and Joan of Arc, as well as a book on medieval history. He obtained these from a Santa Fe bookseller, who recently received some volumes from Spain and Mexico City, and traveled to the Rio Abajo (lower river) to sell.

  As the sun waned, he decided to go for vespers to the church. As he entered, he was under the impression that all the statues and angels nodded and looked at him. He knew he must be imagining this, but to his alert mind it almost seemed like a possibility. After services, everyone filed out except the two beautiful, mystic ladies in black who remained to say their beads. He decided to go home and have a glass of wine or beer before bed. He glanced over at the dead figure